


Lilac Feelings and Amber Truths

by duwangu



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Friends to Lovers, Golden Deer, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, No Spoilers, Nonbinary My Unit | Byleth, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), They/Them Pronouns for My Unit | Byleth, claude being dumb, gratuitous handholding, look they both really need a hug and im here to provide, more pda than lorenz is ready to handle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-02-13 15:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21496435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duwangu/pseuds/duwangu
Summary: Self experimentation was the quickest way to your answers.It's also the quickest way to getting Claude von Riegan to fall in love with his handsomer than he realized, unofficial rival and - maybe - friend.Just one of the spices of life, he supposes. Lorenz would undoubtedly argue that point until his face went blue. At least it complemented his hair.
Relationships: Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 53
Kudos: 207





	1. since when did common sense ever stop him

**Author's Note:**

> me, not writing a thing in over 3 years: hey what if i made a multi chapter fic
> 
> honestly the fact that there isn't more fic taking advantage of Claude's weird poison hobby is a shame and I'm here to fill my own niche needs

“So.”

A finger taps down on the sprawled out map of Fódlan, positioned just north of the mountains and valleys that Garreg Mach resided in. 

“The bandit convoy will be passing through Kingdom territory here, in two days time. They’re carrying supplies for the Empire outposts that are along the border of the resistance, from what our spies can tell; supplies that we need, and will weaken our enemies if they’re gone.”

The gathered group nods as Claude traces the marching path, huddled around the war table for their most recent strategy meeting. 

“We head out in a day, which gives us plenty of time to set up an ambush. If we strike decisively, they won’t have the time to even put up a proper fight. It’ll be a perfect victory,” he continues, placing two yellow game pieces on either side of a valley, right above where the convoy would be passing through.

“And this won’t inspire retaliation from the Empire? Is stopping some bandits really worthy of our time, rather than focusing on establishing much more important trade routes to Garreg Mach? Continuous lines? This seems like little more than a distraction from much more pressing matters for our forces.”

Claude bites back a sigh, eyes flicking up to see Lorenz scrutinizing the map. He has a point, of course, but honestly. Could Claude propose a single plan without being questioned at every turn by the man? It would certainly make his life a lot easier, not having to explain every single little detail.

“Well, the Empire using bandits in the first place means they’re trying to disguise the activity. They certainly can’t blame us for attacking a group of ruffians that fly no banner, _and_ Seteth is already working on those trade routes with Ignatz. Taking care of this is the perfect boost to keep us afloat until they finalize those. As is, we’re waiting on word back from the merchant’s guilds,” Claude explains, tapping a few markers in Alliance territory for said guilds. “Plus, our scouts confirm at least 10 carts in the convoy, which means plenty of supplies. This won’t be some small victory that won’t outweigh the costs.”

“And we’re certain they’re of the Empire?”

“Well, pretty sure. But hey, even if we’re wrong, bandits are bandits, yeah? Good to stop them before they trample and rob any villages they run into along the way.”

Lorenz hums, his brow still pinched, but Claude can tell he’s conceding to his points. Frankly, there was quite literally no reason to not interfere - unless, of course, this was all an elaborate trap. It had crossed his mind, but honestly, it didn’t seem likely. From the reports Shamir had sent in, they were honestly trying to pass by unseen, and he was willing to take the risk. With no more protests, Claude looks to Byleth finally, now that everyone seemed to be in agreement of the plan.

“Well, Teach? What do you think?”

They look over the map for a moment longer, those strange eyes deceptively blank, before they nod with a small smile on their face. Claude takes that for the enthusiastic agreement he’s certain it is, and grins at his gathered allies.

“Let’s go rob some bandits.”

\----------

The fight is exceedingly simple. The convoy can’t number more than a few dozen strong, a force that’s easily taken out with Byleth’s expert strategy, and their surprise attack. The ruffians soon litter the canyon, their horses and carriages abandoned where they were initially stopped. Claude slips his bow back around his shoulder, having double checked the threat was truly gone. Mages run about, healing the minor injuries of their allies and making sure they suffered no losses, which Claude is pretty confident is the case. He hadn’t been wrong about the attack going smoothly, and he thanks whoever may listen that his misgivings of a trap were, in fact, unfounded.

Landing his wyvern, Claude dismounts smoothly, joining the investigation of the carriages. On top of the immediate boon of travel ready horses and sturdy carts, he’s pleased to hear reports of plenty of rations and fabrics. He even hears tell of a stash of vulneraries, elixirs, and some steel weapons. Claude whistles low, smiling as Hilda comes up by his side.

“Jackpot, huh? This will be plenty to help us get through the next few weeks,” he says, obviously pleased with their new haul. Even Hilda looks excited, nodding along.

“Yeah! We can do way less gardening and fishing. Finally, some ready to go ingredients for the kitchens,” she giggles, and Claude rolls his eyes fondly. She never changed, that one.

“Mm, right. Let’s just focus on getting everything back, before we really celebrate, yeah?” he chuckles, clapping a hand on her shoulder, before his attention is drawn away by Leonie. He can see her waving from one of the carts further down the line.

“Hey! We got some weird vials over here. Care to see, Claude?”

That’s all it takes for Claude’s curiosity to be piqued, and he turns, trotting over to her and the cart. He peers inside of a chest that Leonie has popped open, spotting a set of 10 lilac vials, all filled right to the stopper. They were strangely ornate, and Claude gingerly picks one up, eyeing the carved glass and wings affixed to the top. It fits comfortably in his hand, maybe worth two mouthfuls of liquid.

“Got any clue here, Claude?” Leonie pipes up, leaning in to look over the vial with him. “I’ve never seen anything like these before. Think it might be a poison?”

Claude hums, swirling the vial around and watching the contents. It isn’t very viscous, and would likely dissipate well into a beverage, but the faint glimmer would be a dead giveaway. There were plenty of other poisons that wouldn’t leave a trace; using something like this seemed like a fool’s errand to him.

“Not sure. This is new to me too,” he mumbles, turning it over once more, before carefully setting it back down and closing the chest. The latch falls back in place with a soft click, ensuring the contents wouldn’t go flying out anytime soon. “We’ll take it back for now. Maybe Seteth or the others will recognize it. I’m sure the library has something, at the very least,” he continues, nodding at her. He leaves once he gets an affirmation from Leonie, taking another quick onceover of the battlefield. Lysithea and Marianne are tending to some of the wounded, trailed by a concerned looking Ignatz. He can hear Raphael yelling about one of the carts, probably one with a healthy stock of food, and Hilda seems perfectly content to settle herself in a half empty carriage. She’s complaining about the massive armour she has to lug around, but Claude is certain she could carry twice as much without breaking a sweat. That girl had enough strength to rival Raphael, Claude thinks, smiling in bemusement. Finally, he spots Lorenz, engrossed in finishing up a last perimeter before he circles back in.

“Well, I do believe we have finished all of them off. No one will be telling the Empire their supplies aren’t coming anytime soon,” he announces, pleased smile in place.

“Yeah, I didn’t see a single soul running for their lives from the air. We’re in the clear here,” Claude agrees, eyeing the taller man. Much taller, as it were, while he still sat on his horse. Claude is glad when Lorenz hops off of his steed to stand on equal ground with him. “And you said this wouldn’t be worth it.”

“I rescinded that statement, as you know. I thought attacking some common thieves to be below our concerns, but clearly, I was uninformed. You need not further gloat about it,” Lorenz snips back, and Claude laughs, reaching up to pat his shoulder. Or, well, his armour, as it were.

“I’m just kidding. Come on, let’s get back already. I’m itching for a nice soak in the sauna.”

“Right back to taking it easy, are we, Claude?” Lorenz sighs, his brow raised in exasperation at the shorter man.

“You know… you could join me in-”

“Ah, look! The Professor needs me!”

\----------

Claude sniffs at the substance, swirling it below his nose. So far, the tests had proven infuriatingly inconclusive. Plants didn’t wither when he watered them with it, there were no dizzy spells from the fumes, it didn’t seem to heal any sort of external cuts - he had even tried to clean a stain on his desk, reaching his wits end. The new purple mark practically mocks him from its place on the polished wood. It was truly frustrating him to no end, trying to understand just what this substance could be. 

Much to his dismay, no one else seemed to know of it either. Seteth, Catherine, Shamir, the professors… even the library had nary a mention of this liquid. It was either a new concoction that the Empire had come up with, or something forbidden from the school’s library and far removed from public knowledge. Truthfully, both were equally likely, and neither made figuring out its true purpose any easier. Claude was fairly certain it wasn’t a poison, at any rate. With such an ornate vile and appearance, he couldn’t think of a single ingredient that was both toxic and so… well, pretty. Nothing hazardous would produce this colour and shimmer, and it seemed pointless to add something to the mix just for that purpose. Sure, it could be used to trick someone into drinking it, but a fast disappearing powder in a mug of ale was much more effective. Way harder to track.

Honestly, the final nail in the coffin was the smell. Most poisons ran towards the bitter side of both taste and smell, or were neutralized with some other ingredients until there was no discernable characteristic. This, though… the vial smelled sweet, almost intoxicating, and Claude frowns as he takes one more whiff of it. What in the Goddess’ name…

Claude doesn’t even look up when he hears a knock at his door, just calling out a curt, “Come in!” and scribbling out a few more notes on some parchment. He barely registers the foot falls and the door closing, his visitor approaching.

“Still locked away in here? I would have thought you to have these vials figured out ages ago by now.”

Claude groans, eyes shutting briefly. Of course it was his annoying neighbour. Just the guy he wanted to bother him right now.

“Nice to see you too, Lorenz.”

The aforementioned clicks his tongue, taking the last few steps to Claude’s side. He leans down to peer at the vial in Claude’s hand, half empty after all the tests Claude had run on it so far.

“This is surely a new weapon to be used by the Empire against us, is it not?”

“If it is, it’s real good at hiding itself as one. I’ve breathed in enough of this stuff that I should have a headache, at the very least! If it was toxic, that is.”

“You don’t think it is.” It isn’t a question, Lorenz turning to look at Claude.

“Nah. There’s no way this would be any good as a poison,” Claude sighs, head resting on one of his hands. He stares at the vial for a long while, before his eyes flicker to Lorenz, thoughts whirring. It could be dumb, but… “There is one more test, though, that I’ve been putting off. It’ll definitely tell me its effects, hopefully immediately.”

“Wh- and you haven’t conducted it yet? Honestly, Claude, I thought you to be a tad more competent than that. You’ve wasted half the thing already.”

“Well, I had to wait for someone else to come along. Wouldn’t do to die in my room all by myself,” Claude laughs, smirking up at Lorenz. The man in question, to his credit, only looks confused for but a moment.

“Oh, absolutely not. Claude von Riegan, I swear on the Goddess and my family’s name, don’t you _dare_-”

_Gulp._

Lorenz stares at him, mouth agape, while Claude lowers the vial from his mouth. He licks his lips, humming in consideration. It was actually pretty tasty, the sweet tang of peach left on his tongue, along with something much more mild that he can’t quite place. A leaf, of some sort?

“Not bad,” he surmises, right as Lorenz grabs his shoulders and forces him to face the noble, eyes wide.

_“What are you thinking?!_ Drinking a possible poison- or- or worse! We can hardly afford to lose you right now!” Lorenz yells, squeezing his shoulders. “Quickly now, vomit that up. Or do you have- have a- an antidote around? Surely you must. Some universal cure?”

Claude blinks at his ramblings, going to reassure him that honestly, he felt fine. Better than fine, really. There was a lightness in his chest, a soft warmth spreading in his stomach, and wow. Had Lorenz’s hair always looked so soft? He must spend a lot of time on it. Of course, this wasn’t new knowledge, but Claude had never really taken the time to appreciate it before. Unbidden, Claude reaches a hand up, effectively silencing the panicking noble as he gently grabs a lock of hair.

“...What are you doing, Claude?”

“Your hair is gorgeous.”

Whatever response Lorenz had ready looks to dry up on his tongue, leaving him standing there dumbfounded while Claude played with the piece of purple hair. It felt just as soft as it looked, and was that lavender he smelled? That was pretty cute.

Much too soon, Claude feels a firm grip on his hand, pulling it away from Lorenz’s hair. He’d complain, but the prospect of holding Lorenz’s hand is suddenly just as tempting. It’s easy to thread their fingers together, just shifting the grip a little, and Claude smiles at the slightly colder, pale fingers against his own warm, tan ones. Lorenz, for his part, huffs at him, pulling him to his feet by their hands.

“I- would you stop this already,” he hisses, and was that a blush Claude spotted on his cheeks?

“Stop what?”

“Being so- so touchy-feely. You would never compliment my hair like that!”

“A shame. I should really make up for lost time.”

Lorenz stares at him again, and Claude grins, tightening his grip on Lorenz’s hand a little. If he just moved a bit closer…

“Goddess, the potion is affecting you already. You’re losing your mind.”

Lorenz is suddenly turning in a whirl of lavender scented hair, and Claude stumbles after him, still holding his hand.

“Come! We must get you to Professor Manuela post-haste, before anything else may happen to you. I shudder to think what may happen if you lose your sense any more than you already have.”

Claude laughs, and follows after Lorenz, practically jogging to keep up with his long strides. He has to drag Claude practically across the entire monastery, and Claude idly wonders who thought to put the infirmary so far away from the dorms. Should anything happen to a student in their room, it would be quite a hassle to get to in an actual emergency. The stairs hardly helped, either.

As they move, Claude can hear a few aborted attempts at questions or conversations with them. Truly, what a strange pair they must make. Lorenz and Claude, hand in hand as they all but run through the gardens to the main hall? Definitely out of the norm. Claude just manages to spot Hilda as they round another corner, and he throws her a wink as he’s all but pushed up the stairs to the infirmary, a red-faced Lorenz ushering him along.

The next thing Claude knows, he’s being ushered to sit in one of the infirmary beds, Lorenz calling for Manuela once he finally extracts his hand from Claude’s grip. The room, as is common, is empty - the woman probably off lamenting her romances, or perhaps passed out in her room drunk. Claude is perfectly content to just sit there, but the same can’t be said for Lorenz, who is practically wearing a hole in the floor from his pacing and muttering. Claude isn’t too happy to have been forced all the way over here, but at least the view was nice. ...Well, that was a new one.

Manuela arrives minutes later, looking a bit harried as she smoothes down her hair. Evidently, she didn’t expect to be working anytime soon, with no new missions going on. Claude’s pretty sure she’s mostly here to quiet Lorenz’s complaints. 

“Alright, I’m here, I’m here. What’s all this ruckus about?” she grumbles, finally fixing her cloak over herself. She looks between the two of them, and is evidently not impressed to see no immediate danger, even after Lorenz sent three different people to go and pester her.

“Ah, Professor Manuela, I apologize for the sudden summons, but it is an emergency - Claude could very well be dying!”

“I mean, I feel fine-” 

“His stupidity has finally caught up to him,” Lorenz continues, as if he hadn’t even heard Claude as he shakes his head. Claude gives him a half-hearted glare from the bed. Still, the words seem to peek Manuela’s concern, and she strides over to him to begin the examination.

“What, exactly, is the issue?”

“Really, nothing-”

“He drank one of those mysterious potions, which he isn’t even sure it isn’t poisonous! Look at the flush on his cheeks. He insists he’s fine, but I hardly believe that. It’s obviously having an effect.”

His face was flushed…? Claude presses a hand to his cheek, noting for the first time the warmth radiating from it. Huh. It was something, but really, it was far from a sign of his impending death. He also notes that Lorenz pointedly doesn’t mention the whole hand holding and hair stroking incident.

“...You drank one of them?” Manuela looks at him, accusatory, and Claude huffs, finally speaking up.

“Only half. And I _am_ sure it isn’t poisonous - every one of its traits made it a horrible assassination tool. I can list a half dozen better poisons from the top of my head.” 

“Oh, Goddess, Claude. I hope you’re right,” Manuela mumbles, and he can feel her magic gently wash over him, trying to rid any toxic effects that might be ailing him right now.

Lorenz, for his part, is all but hovering over the both of them. His hands are clasped tightly behind his back, trying to hide his nervousness, but it’s practically coming off of him in waves as he worries his bottom lip. Claude doesn’t even think as he reaches out to press a hand to Lorenz’s arm, flashing him a soft, encouraging smile.

“Hey, don’t worry. Really, I’ll be fine, Lorenz. No need for all of this fuss,” he assures, voice calm and… honestly, a lot fonder than it normally was when it came to the man. Uncharacteristically so. Lorenz stares at him like he’s grown a second head, opening his mouth to say something, before it soundlessly shuts. For once, Claude seems to have made him tongue tied. For the second time today, in fact. A personal record. Lorenz raises a hand to Claude’s own, perhaps to pull it away, but he hesitates for just a moment. Claude takes the chance to lace their fingers together again, and it’s honestly a shame he had never noticed how slim and elegant Lorenz’s fingers were. Practically unfit for battle, if not for the calluses on the pads of his fingers and his palm, where he wielded his lance. So like Lorenz himself, just without the whole pompous attitude attached. 

He hears a soft, “Oh, my,” from Manuela, but it’s practically background noise, his eyes solely focused on Lorenz.

“Thanks for taking such good care of me.”

“I- you are quite welcome, of course, but- but this is hardly necessary. You are still in danger, after all!”

“Maybe, but I have my knight in purple armour to protect me, don’t I?” Claude replies easily, and brings Lorenz’s hand close enough to kiss the back of it. Lorenz snaps out of whatever stunned reverie he was in at the touch, yanking his hand back like Claude had burnt it, and Manuela quickly presses a hand to his forehead. Her touch is pleasantly cool, but Claude longs for Lorenz’s instead, sighing while she takes his pulse. 

“Well, I do have a theory…” she finally says at length, and Lorenz is by the other bed by now, hand clutched to his chest. He tries to compose himself, clearing his throat, and valiantly acting like nothing happened just now. 

“And that would be?”

“I only ever heard rumours of it, honestly. We were all warned about accepting mysterious drinks from strangers in the opera company, Dorothea especially, and, well… It was mostly because they were afraid of them slipping in a love potion. A sure way to make a diva fall for you instantly.”

A quiet settles over the room, Claude looking contemplative, while Lorenz is utterly disbelieving. 

“You can’t possibly be implying…”

“Claude, dear, what is Lorenz to you?”

Claude blinks at her, then looks to Lorenz, a lazy smile playing at his lips.

“Well, annoying, for one. And one of my best supporters and fighters. I wouldn’t get half as far without him always challenging me and making me rework my plans to perfection, even if it’s a pain.”

Lorenz looks indignant, but Claude carries on before he can say anything.

“He’s also the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, inside and out. Hard to think it took me this long to really realize it,” he continues, his smile softening into something genuine, and he’s starting to wonder if Lorenz will ever return to being a pale faced individual. “I wish everyone else could see that, too. I just hope he’ll stay by my side until I can show them all the truth. Until we can achieve my goals, together.”

There’s a beat of silence, again, and Claude has never felt more sure about his words in his life. There’s a light fluttering in his chest, and he just barely keeps himself sitting, instead of rushing over to Lorenz’s side.

“Well… that certainly sounds like a love potion talking to me,” Manuela sighs, shaking her head slowly. Lorenz is left to flounder for words, taken aback by the sudden confession of such affection. He swallows, mouth dry, before finally choking out his words.

“Claude von Riegan, you shall be the death of me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed! honestly, it's been way too long since i wrote anything, and i'm definitely a bit rusty. but hey, only one way to get back in practice, right?
> 
> i love these two idiots.
> 
> please, let me know if anything felt off or out of character! comments and kudos are always appreciated!


	2. curiosity may just be his biggest downfall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really struggled with this one but hey i got it out eventually at leasT  
lemme know if you see any errors - and thank you to my lovely beta and resident Lorenz expert snitewing for looking over this for me!

After the impromptu confession, there’s a lot of running around. Lorenz hastens to excuse himself from the room, under the guise of fetching the other faculty for an emergency meeting. Claude doesn’t even get the chance to offer going with him, and his attempt to follow is foiled by Manuela herself. She ushers him back to his seat, stating she needs to perform more tests, though Claude hasn’t a clue what she could possibly find. They said it was a love potion, and he doubts that would leave many physical alterations, aside from his apparently flushed cheeks. Poking and prodding didn’t seem like they would do much, but he isn’t going to up and leave on her. At least this might put Lorenz’ fussing to rest, if Manuela fully confirms nothing hazardous is going on with his body.

Byleth and Seteth are the first to arrive, rushing in right as Manuela lets him pull his shirt back on. It seems like Lorenz didn’t explain much, if their questions and concerned expressions are anything to go off of. Claude flashes his professor a smile when they look his way, eyes full of worry. He hopes it’s reassuring. Goddess, Lorenz must have made it sound like he was on death’s door; he always was one for accidental dramatics, that man. Claude can’t help but feel a little soft for the eccentric behaviour.

The room doesn’t take long to fill, and Manuela begins to try and explain the situation, as they’re aware of it. She does her best to put it delicately, but there really is no elegant way of saying ‘our second most brilliant tactician drank the weird potion we found and is now in love with his barely-a-friend old classmate’. At least it would be a fun story to look back on, Claude muses, not looking nearly as concerned or exasperated as the rest of them.

Seteth pinches the bridge of his nose, a pained expression straining his face. Claude bites back a comment about the wrinkles it’ll surely cause. “So that’s what that potion was… I was hoping that you, of all people, wouldn’t foolishly drink such an unknown substance, Claude. We can hardly afford one of our most brilliant minds to be addled in the middle of a war.”

“Hey, I can think just fine. You guys are all blowing this way out of proportion,” Claude replies, voice just a tinge indignant. They were treating him like the potion made all rational thought fly from his head. Is the impulse to hold Lorenz close that strange to them? Sure, he might not have entertained the thought much prior to this, but it isn’t like he's going to suddenly lead them all into a death trap for the man.

Speaking of Lorenz, Claude glances around the room, searching for him. He spots him standing off to the side, just to the back of the main group. Claude can feel himself perk up, and he subtly jerks his head to beckon Lorenz over. The man pointedly looks in another direction.

“You might be able to think about tactics the same, but we can’t have you suddenly favouring Lorenz in our planning. He’s too good on the front lines,” Shamir speaks up, voice as calm and matter of fact as always. Claude, with a sigh, notes Byleth nodding along.

“Yeah, no offense, Riegan, but love really doesn’t have a place on the battlefield. If you’re actually, well… enamoured, then you’ll be about as useful as Alois is on his anniversary.” That earns Catherine an indignant squawk from the man, but no one says a word of protest on the matter.

“Look, I know Lorenz can defend himself. I’m not going to change all of my tactics just because I drank a magic potion - really, your lack of faith is astounding,” Claude huffs, shaking his head at them.

“Be that as it may, we don’t know all the details about what this… love potion may entail,” Seteth cuts in, expression definitely awkward now. Despite that, Claude knows Seteth has already made up his mind, even as he turns to address the others. “Let us discuss in private what should be done. For now, it is best you stay here, in case anything new should arise.”

Claude slumps a bit as they slowly file out of the room, no doubt heading for the cardinal’s chamber to talk further. Usually, Claude could use his words to get just about anyone to listen to his side of things. This dumb potion, though, took away all their faith in his usual abilities. Sighing, Claude rubs at his eyes with the palms of his hands, pressing until he can see spots.

“Should’ve made Lorenz drink it instead…”

“Unlike you, I do have some sense of self-preservation.”

Claude jumps, just barely biting back a rather undignified noise as he drops his hands. Looking up, he’s surprised to see Lorenz still standing in the room, the only one left now. The foul mood that had been starting to settle in is practically swept away, leaving only a bitter aftertaste in its wake.

“You stayed?”

Lorenz looks affronted. “Of course. It would hardly do to leave you alone. Manuela is the expert on matters such as this, so they require her for consultation. As such, the responsibility falls to me. At least someone will be here to keep an eye on you should you faint or stop breathing."

That pulls a laugh from Claude, shaking his head as he stands. Lorenz tenses a little, but doesn’t move away as Claude approaches. “Well, that’s awfully kind of you. If I do stop breathing, are you planning to help resuscitate me?” he teases, enjoying the flush that colours Lorenz’s cheeks even as he looks away sharply. 

“I assure you, I will be calling on Manuela before I let things come to that,” Lorenz huffs, and Claude takes the chance to slowly loop an arm around his waist.

“But if they do?” he prompts, a grin curling at his lips. His eyes are half lidded, feeling almost drunk from the close contact as he leans in towards Lorenz, gaze dropping to those pale lips. He spots Lorenz’s eyes flash to him for but a moment, widening, before a hand is being inelegantly shoved against Claude's face, pushing him back. He stumbles a little, rubbing at his now sore nose as he lets go of Lorenz. 

“Claude. I understand that you under the effect of some likely very powerful magic, but I must insist you at least try and control yourself. I am hardly under the same influences as you. If not for my sake, then for your own, when you surely snap out of this trance and are suitably mortified.”

The words are firm, spoken with no room for nonsense, and Claude feels his heart flutter a little in response. It was rare, seeing Lorenz quite so stern, a level look directed straight at him. It was kinda hot, too, if Claude's being entirely honest. Still, after such an earnest request, he can hardly deny the man.

“I don’t think I’ll be mortified, but, fine. I won’t try to kiss you.”

It’s hardly the full parameters set by Lorenz in his plea, and they both know it, but he seems to accept the request for now.

“Thank you, Claude. Now rest. With any luck, this will eventually wear off, and save us all a bigger hassle.”

Claude hardly thinks that his feelings will be able to fade just like that, but he humours Lorenz, moving back to sit down on the bed. It’s silent for a while, after that, just the chatter of soldiers outside and the wind blowing by the windows to fill the air. Claude can almost fool himself that things are normal, for a moment, if not for the thrumming in his chest. There’s a pressure in his heart whenever the sun catches Lorenz’s profile just the right way, sitting perched on the bed opposite. He opens his mouth to say more, after too long of staring at the dip of Lorenz’s neck, but he’s interrupted when the door finally reopens.

Manuella pads into the room looking more worn out than before, if that was even possible. Rubbing at her temples, she knocks the door back shut with her hip, and Lorenz and Claude both straighten a bit for her.

“So, doc? What’s my sentence?”

“Oh, please, don’t call it that. It’s not that bad,” Manuela says, waving him off as she strides further into the room. Despite her words, she seems to be trying to keep her hands busy, picking up a few things strewn about her desk.

“As you might be… compromised, we’re taking you off duty for now. You can still suggest tactics and plans, of course, but we can’t risk anything happening to you out on the battlefield.”

Claude stares, processing, and he can see Lorenz nodding his head out of the corner of his eye, the traitor.

“I wholeheartedly agree with your decision. We cannot afford to lose him on the front lines.” Lorenz doesn’t even look at Claude, eyes solely on Manuela, and he feels a little indignant at that.

“No offense, but I don’t know if you can afford to lose me-”

“Cyril and Seteth are more than capable of making up for whatever wyvern units your absence may leave wanting, alongside your battalion," Lorenz cuts in smoothly, shaking his head. "Your skill with a bow and axe is undeniable, certainly, but the war will not be lost in your absence. You can place more faith in the rest of us than that, can you not?” Claude doesn’t know if he should take the words as a compliment or an insult. He’ll at least pretend it’s the former.

“It'll just be until we get this sorted out,” Manuela assures, finally giving up on her lackluster attempts at cleaning as she steps over to him, gently resting a hand on his shoulder.

Claude heaves another breath, knowing that he's outnumbered by the entire faculty. There's no way to bend all of their ears - even Hilda would have a tough time swaying this one. 

“So, I’m on house arrest.”

“Think of it as… monastery arrest.”

“Oh, my bad. That’s way better.”

Manuela shakes her head with a soft laugh, dropping her hand.

“We’ll get things sorted out, and then this will all be nothing but a silly story,” she promises, and Claude rubs a hand over his face.

“Right, right… Well, I’ll at least get working on a cure for it,” he concedes, before adding, “I won’t drink it before I know it’ll work this time!” at the pointed looks they both send him.

Finally satisfied, Manuela nods, then excuses herself to take care of whatever matters she does on a day-to-day basis - probably going back to sleep. Left alone with Lorenz, Claude stands from the bed, stretching his legs out.

“Well, I guess we can finally go back to my room, huh?”

“And why would I want to go back to your quarters?”

Claude raises an eyebrow, a smirk turning up the corner of his lips, and Lorenz immediately turns and leaves the infirmary with quick strides. Claude’s laughter follows him out, and he shakes his head, trailing behind. Well, he’d just have to work at getting Lorenz used to his advances. It isn’t like he doesn’t suddenly have an abundance of time on his hands - might as well put it to use. Of course, he’ll be researching the potion further, too, but why waste the perfect opportunity to really mess with the noble? He is nothing, he thinks, if not an opportunist.

\--------------------

Lorenz’s concentration is broken with a very dignified yelp as Claude slips his arms around his waist, standing behind him and squeezing a little. Claude can’t help but snicker at the noise, peering around Lorenz’s arm at the map the man had been carefully tracing, compass and parchment set off to the side.

“Taking up cartography?”

“Claude, for heaven’s sake-” Lorenz bats at his hands, fending them off with a petulant huff. Standing alone in the Golden Deer classroom, mere hours after Lorenz had fled, Claude thinks it rather silly for him to pull away so much. Perhaps the late hour has simply made Lorenz more antsy, he muses - the sun is just beginning to set, and Claude feels far more awake than was typical at this hour of the day. Maybe it'll be worth it, getting used to this, if he gets to see a different side of Lorenz.

“What are you doing?” Claude asks, pretending like nothing happened, standing close enough to Lorenz to bump hips with him. The man gives up on moving away from him only when he runs out of table to shuffle along.

“I am looking over our next plans. Unlike you, some of us still have tasks to tend to, and we cannot put everything on hold,” Lorenz sighs, sounding far more exasperated than usual, voice tight. Claude hums, not pointing it out as he looks over the detailed map of the Alliance. There’s a few paths drawn, weaving from the territory to the monastery, and all avoiding any lords that had shown support towards the Empire.

“You’re planning out travel routes we can take to get around?” Claude asks, and Lorenz nods solemnly.

“Yes. The time it will take to cross Leicester will be much longer, now that we cannot… well, go through Gloucester territory.” Lorenz’s face gives the faintest of twitches, so small even Claude almost misses it. He refrains from commenting on the meaning behind it, though, just letting the man continue for once. “I must get this map to Seteth so we may finalize the trade deals - Ignatz has received an affirmative from the merchant guilds, but as things stand, their travel times may be double that of normal fare. We are attempting to find the fastest route without drawing unnecessary attention.” Claude nods along with the explanation, humming.

“The only safe route is through Daphnel territory, right?”

“That is correct. As things stand, these problems will add at least an extra three days journey. It will surely be a horrible headache, trying to get reliable supplies to Garreg Mach. We hardly have the time to waste,” Lorenz sighs, a hand gracefully pinching the bridge of his nose. Claude didn’t even know that could be done gracefully, but Lorenz is certainly an exception to quite a few things.

“Right. So we’d still be stretched thin, unless they can go through your territory.”

“It’s- yes. That is correct.”

“Merchants still have to pass through Gloucester lands to get to the end of Daphnel territory though, right? That’s a good disguise.”

“Yes, but a marked increase in traffic will only raise suspicions. That area is not home to enough towns to warrant the extra merchants - my father will hardly overlook such a thing.”

“More merchants, yeah, but not slightly bigger loads.” Claude taps at the map. “If each merchant that regularly passes that road adds a little bit more to their shipments, then gather it all together in Daphnel to send to us, they won’t raise any suspicions. We get supplies from all over the Alliance, and we don’t have to use a single, out of the way route.”

“I see…” Lorenz leans in, looking over the map in consideration, and Claude admires the way his hair falls gracefully over his shoulder. It’s a struggle to not touch it again, knowing how soft it is, but he holds himself back for Lorenz’s sake. “Yes, that could work. This would be perfect, in fact. We shan’t lose more than a day to them gathering the supplies together.” A smile curls at Lorenz’s lips, and he looks over at Claude. “Those years of scheming pay off some days, don’t they?”

Claude grins, and his heart quickens at having that soft smile directed right at him. “You know me - I never do a thing without some motive behind it,” he chuckles, and wraps an arm around Lorenz’s waist again. “I’m always here to support my poor, dashing knight.”

Lorenz’s smile falters, frozen for a moment, before he’s sputtering and Claude finds himself pushed away yet again. His face is a deep crimson, expression equal parts embarrassed and indignant, and Claude can practically hear him bristling.

“I am no ‘poor knight’, Claude von Riegan. Thank you for the consultation, but I must get this plan to Seteth immediately. Have a good evening.” The words are clipped as Lorenz sweeps up the map and supplies in his arms, blustering out of the classroom. Claude watches him go, a bit dumbfounded by the sudden reaction, and gaze maybe a little lower than it should be. They had been getting along so well - was that one touch really enough to set him off that bad? Claude ponders, but his train of thought breaks when he sees a flash of pink poke its head in. Evidently, Lorenz had been in such a rush that he hadn’t even spotted Hilda, who had been right outside the classroom. Casually, Claude throws her a smile and a wave.

“What was all that about?” she asks in return, not bothering with any sort of greeting.

“Oh, you know. Just Lorenz being Lorenz,” Claude dismisses, shrugging as he strolls out of the now deserted classroom to join Hilda. His words earn him a suspicious brow raise.

“I mean, sure, but that was a bit much. And you’re acting weird, too! You always save those hugs for me, not him,” Hilda replies, head tilting. “Not to mention the whole running around holding hands earlier.”

“Hey, can’t a guy just want to hold his friend’s hand?”

“Are you even his friend?”

“I mean, probably. ...Maybe. Do you think we are?”

Claude glances at her as they begin walking along the courtyard. What a shame it was that she never applied that sharp eye of hers to grander schemes - most would easily dismiss his behaviour as another joke, or simple teasing. Hilda, though, doesn’t even consider it for a moment.

“Hey, don’t ask me! I can barely understand either of you, let alone both of you! I’m just making sure you’re okay. Don’t make me work so much,” Hilda whines, giving his shoulder a petulant punch. Claude laughs, and fights back a grimace as pain laces up his decidedly weaker arm. She could truly be a menace sometimes.

“I’m fine, Hilda. Trust me.”

“...Hm. Well, if you _really_ insist.”

Claude nods, and he’s honestly a little touched at the concern. They're friends of course, close ones, but the reassurance is still nice. Until she keeps going.

“Aaaaaaanyways, I was actually looking for you. There’s this fish I’m supposed to go catch, but you know I’m just really no good at that sorta thing-”

\-----------------------

“Hey, Lorenz!”

“Claude.”

Claude laughs at the clipped response, and easily plops himself down right beside Lorenz in the dining hall, ignoring the swath of free bench to either side of them.

“Glad to hear you missed me too,” he teases, letting his shoulder knock against Lorenz’s. He doesn’t pull back after, but miraculously, Lorenz doesn’t move to do so either. He just sits there, not standing to switch seats or leave like Claude had half expected him to do. Perhaps he's doing it for the sake of his pride, trying not to act childish in front of their companions. Claude isn’t convinced that it’s working.

“It has been less than an hour since I last saw you. I assure you, I can last much longer without your ceaseless pestering before I note your absence,” Lorenz huffs, snippy as ever when it comes to him. Claude likes him all the more for it, he thinks, unable to keep the smile off of his face.

“Aw, c’mon. You really didn’t miss me even a tiny bit?”

“No.”

The sharp reply does nothing to dissuade Claude, who feigns a dramatic sigh, slinging an arm over Lorenz’s shoulders. As Lorenz squawks and finally tries to shove him off, Hilda points at the duo from a table behind them, eyes gleaming.

“You see what I mean? It’s weird.”

“I don’t know… Claude has always been pretty comfortable with physical contact. Is it that out of the ordinary?” Ignatz frowns, not entirely convinced that something was wrong with their ex-houseleader. Hilda had been ranting and raving throughout dinner, though the others hadn’t seen a thing.

“It’s more than just being comfortable with it! Look at his expression! He’s not just teasing Lorenz for fun. He never got this close to him before, either, and suddenly he’s glued to him,” Hilda insists, and Ignatz gives them another discreet look. He has to admit that Claude’s gaze seems… softer than usual. Not half as calculating and distant, his smile actually warming his eyes. Even from this distance, he can see how the man is leaning into Lorenz, protests be damned.

“Maybe something happened between them,” Marianne murmurs, half to herself, but Hilda nods enthusiastically, jumping on the marginal support.

“See? There definitely is, and it’s our job to figure out what our little Claude and Lorenz are up to! We can’t just let them run off alone!”

“I didn’t mean-”

“I’m so glad you agree. You’re so smart, Marianne, I can really rely on you to back me up!”

Marianne blushes, looking down as her protests die on her lips. Well… Hilda couldn’t do that much damage, right? She means well. A glance at Hilda, and Marianne resolves to send an extra prayer to the Goddess tonight at the gleam in the girl’s eyes.

\----------------

“Sorry, you want me to what?”

“Aw, c’mon, I’ve repeated it twice now! I just need you to push them in a closet for a bit, that’s all!”

Raphael frowns, rubbing the back of his head. When Hilda approached him, it was usually for favours, but they were usually pretty normal. This is not.

“Isn’t that a little… mean?”

“Oh, I promise, it isn’t. This is for their own good! Something’s wrong, and as Claude’s best friend, it’s my job to figure it out. Don’t you want to help them too?”

Hilda bats her eyes up at him, starting to pout, and Raphael hurriedly nods in return at the words.

“Well, if it’s for a friend, then of course I do! I’ll do whatever you need me to if it’ll help ‘em!”

The pout is gone in a second, a smile curling up the delicate pink of Hilda’s lips as she claps her hands excitedly.

“Thanks a bunch, Raphael! You’re a really great guy!” 

“Yeah! ...You’re sure they won’t be mad, though?”

Hilda doesn’t deign to reply to that one, just skipping off, leaving the guy to figure things out. She has to plans to make.

\-----------------

Claude strolls down the grand hall, double checking the letter he had found waiting under his door when he went to retire. It’s in Hilda’s unmistakeable neat, loopy writing, asking him to come to the maintenance closet just off the hall. It’s a bizarre request, especially written, and Claude can smell the scheme a mile away. He just hasn’t a clue what it could be; Hilda really wasn’t one to put all this effort into planning something. If she wanted him to mop the floors for her, she would just ask. All this secrecy and elaborate planning just isn’t her usual style.

Curiosity, though, was never something Claude has been good at reigning in. He trusts Hilda not to be pulling anything too horrible, so even knowing this to be a trap, he marches right towards his destination. He just _has_ to know what's up.

When he arrives, the door is already slightly ajar, and he pushes it open further. He’s expecting to see Hilda waiting inside for him, but instead, Lorenz stands there in all his glory, looking surprised and terribly cramped in the small space.

“Well… fancy meeting you here.”

“I could very well say the same to you. Hilda did not mention you would be joining us when she requested my assistance.”

Something clicks in Claude’s head, then, the plot revealing itself to him, but it’s far too late. Something strong and burly slams into his back, and he has no hope in saving himself from that hit. He stumbles into the closest with a yelp, crashing right into the now very alarmed Lorenz, right before the door is being slammed shut. Darkness envelops the closet, just the dim light seeping from under the door frame to light the space as something _ka-chunks_ behind them. Groaning, Claude turns to look at the door, and tries the handle. Predictably, it doesn’t budge.

“Hilda…” His voice is equal parts amused and exasperated, and perhaps a little proud. He’s met with silence, even though he knows she’s still out there.

“Wh- what is the _meaning_ of this! Is this another one of your schemes, Claude? To humiliate me?”

“Hey, don’t look at me! I swear, this time, I had nothing to do with it. Hilda gets all the credit for this one.” 

Lorenz huffs, loathe to believe that she might do such a thing, as he pushes past Claude. It’s a tight fit, brooms knocking into them as they move, Claude half leaning on a shelf to make room for Lorenz’s long limbs as he knocks firmly at the door. A week ago, Claude would have been horribly uncomfortable. Now, though, he can’t say he totally hates it. He’ll have to thank HIlda once they get out of here. Subtly, of course. Didn’t want it all to go to her head.

“Hilda? Hello? I must request that you let us out of here this instant! Truly, this is most unbecoming of adults of our station!” Lorenz shouts through the wood, lips pursed tightly. Claude refrains from saying anything about the awkward way the man has to straddle his legs and a bucket, just visible in the dim light. Let him hold on to some pride.

“I don’t think she’s planning to let us out anytime soon,” Claude sighs once silence meets them again, crossing his arms behind his head to relax. Lorenz shoots him a deep scowl for his efforts.

“And why, Claude, would that be?”

“Because she saw me flirting with you, and she won’t let it go.”

“She saw you-!”

Claude can practically hear the blush he knows is colouring Lorenz’s cheeks, likely fierce enough to match that silly fabric rose he attached to every outfit he owned. Claude shrugs, not fighting back his smile.

“It’s not like I was trying to flaunt it or anything, but I guess I’m pretty obvious.”

“Well, of course you are! You keep touching me in public, without a care for who might be around, or where we are. It only makes sense that someone has picked up on it already, for all the grace you have been handling this situation with!”

“Hey, I can’t help it! You’re just too pretty to keep away from,” Claude laughs. He pushes himself off of the shelf, feet shuffling a bit so he can lean in towards Lorenz instead. The other, for his part, presses his back flat against the door, as if trying to back away in the crowded closet. It’s an effort made in vain, as Claude takes up the spot right in front of Lorenz, ignoring the few brooms that knock against his legs. He can hear Lorenz swallow in front of him, probably trying to reign in his nerves.

“Claude, we have talked about this-”

“Oh, relax. I’m not going to do anything nefarious.”

“...Forgive me, but I find that hard to believe.”

Claude grins in amusement, and once more, his arms slip around Lorenz’s waist. This time, though, Lorenz has no choice but to accept the contact, and Claude rests his head on Lorenz’s collarbone. He’s the perfect height for it, nestled in like a missing piece, and he ignores the way he can feel Lorenz go stiff.

“Claude…”

“It’s just a hug, you’re not going to die. At least humour me, in my time of need?” Claude wheedles, and Lorenz sighs dramatically above him. He can feel the puff of air ruffle his hair, and it sends a warm feeling through his limbs, neither party moving for a few moments.

Lorenz has nothing to say to his words, but slowly, slowly, Claude feels arms tentatively wrap around his back. The hold is stiff and awkward, but that doesn’t stop the smile that splits Claude’s face. It’s an absolutely atrocious hug, really, but Claude can’t help but think it’s perfect as he sinks into it. He’s immensely thankful that Lorenz decided to forego his armour for ‘cleaning duties’. This would be much more uncomfortable had his head been resting upon cool steel, rather than the silk shirt and ascot that poked past Lorenz’s tail coat. Another sigh graces the top of his head, Lorenz’s own falling back against the door with a dull _thunk_.

“Even after five long years, you are a handful, Claude.”

“Isn’t that part of my charm?

“I don’t know if I would call it that.”

"But you still follow me anyways."

“Someone must ensure the Alliance is not about to crumble beneath your reign. It is merely my duty.”

Claude hums, believing those words about as much as Lorenz himself does. His eyes slip shut, and he simply basks in the warmth the other has to offer, for a moment. Lorenz’s arms finally relax, just a bit, and rest much more comfortably about his waist. Claude smiles. “I’m glad I have you to watch my back.”

“Oh? You seemed to loathe it back when we were younger - you never lacked for complaints.”

“Well, I didn’t trust you when we were younger.”

“And you do now?”

“Yes.”

Claude doesn’t hesitate to give his answer, not missing a beat. Perhaps that's yet another effect of the potion; there had always been that nagging thought in the back of his head, that Lorenz might turn back to his father and help lead the Empire against them. Still, it had never been hard to shoo it away, and now, he feels elated at the complete faith he realizes he has in the other. Normally, such a thing would terrify him. Now, though, he only feels comfort. He can hear Lorenz’s heart quicken beneath his ear at his words, a near silent, but sharp inhale accompanying it. He isn’t the only one affected by the declaration, and Claude tightens his hold. 

“I’m glad you’re at my side, Lorenz,” he continues, the words practically spilling out of him like a broken dam, now that he had started. “This war would be a whole world harder without you.” 

Lorenz’s breath comes out shaky, and there’s a beat of silence as the noble composes himself.  
“I- I see. Well, I, too, am glad to be here,” he eventually gets out, and Claude smiles. It isn’t the heartfelt declaration he had given him, sure, but it’s as close as he’s going to get for now. Claude repeats the words to himself, and greedily stashes them away to ruminate on once Lorenz inevitably pulls away from him again. For now, though, he keeps his focus on this moment, on the content feeling that seems to fill his very being at finally feeling accepted by Lorenz. He silently wishes it wouldn’t end, but of course, that’s impossible. 

“-need to clean. This place needs to be spotless for Lady Rhea.”

“But the floor is practically sparkling! You always do such an amazing job, Cyril, don’t you think you deserve a break for one night?”

“Yeah! You’re way too scrawny, let’s get you some food from the dining hall!”

“I can do all that stuff later. Right now, I really do need to clean. Someone dragged in a bunch of mud and sand from the training grounds.”

Claude straightens up at the slowly approaching voices, as does Lorenz, though with much less dignity. He basically shoves Claude off of him at the thought of being caught so close together, and Claude tries to catch his balance. He mostly just succeeds in kicking over the brooms that had been leaning against him, tripping over the bucket between them and landing hard on his ass. He thinks he hears a mop or two snap under him. Lorenz, for his part, is frozen above him, not having expected to push him quite so hard. Claude sorely wishes he could see his expression in better detail right now.

Silence has fallen outside during the cacophony, but it doesn’t last, footsteps rushing towards them before the door is quickly unlocked and swung open. Claude manages a grin at Cyril, who stands in the door, looking thoroughly confused as light pours into the little closet. He steps aside a little while Lorenz stumbles out, a hand over his face to hide his flush, and maybe to just hide in general. Slowly, Cyril blinks.

“Uhhhh…”

“Evening, Cyril. Fancy seeing you here - we were just getting some supplies for Hilda and Raphael,” Claude greets with a lazy wave. He accepts the hand the Almyran offers him, pulling him out of the pile of supplies with a grunt. Glancing back, Claude is glad to see that most of the brooms and mops survived his fall, only two having snapped. Cyril takes a step back so Claude can leave the closet too, moving to stand by Lorenz, who is desperately trying to smooth his hair and outfit. Claude gives a look at the - surprisingly, two - culprits, smile playing at his lips.

Hilda has the decency to look at least a little sheepish, though her eyes show that she definitely doesn’t regret a thing, gaze flicking between him and Lorenz. Raphael just laughs beside her. 

“You guys better now?”

“Better?” Lorenz echoes, voice clipped and carefully controlled as one brow raises.

“Yeah! Hilda said there was something wrong with ya, and locking you in there would help!”

Three sets of eyes land on her, accusatory, and she laughs, hands clasped behind her back. 

“Well, Lorenz kept avoiding you, so I figured…”

“That you would lock the both of us in a closet, with barely the room to move about?!”

“Hmmm…. Yup! More or less.”

“I’m-”

“Oh, shoot, I just remembered! I promised I was going to have tea with Marianne, and you know how she gets when you’re late. Can’t leave her hanging - I’ll see you guys later!”

“Hilda, we all know that’s-” Claude cuts himself off, just sighing as Hilda runs out of the hall, waving over her shoulder. And, well. Ignoring the awkward clamber out, her plan had worked. Claude finally got the bit of time with Lorenz he had been trying to snag, though Lorenz hardly seems to agree with the sentiment, sputtering at Hilda's retreating back. Raphael looks between them, then shrugs, heading off with shouts about finding some leftovers after a successful mission. Cyril merely walks by with an armful of cleaning supplies.

“You guys should be more careful - Hilda’s pretty scary when she actually tries,” he warns, and Lorenz sighs as Cyril heads into the hall proper.

“Apparently so…”

“Oh, c’mon, Lorenz. It wasn’t all bad - we even had a moment back there!” Claude elbows him, and Lorenz snorts, stepping away. Back to the usual, then.

“A ‘moment’, as you put it, that two of our fellow soldiers eavesdropped on. Raphael will surely forget what happened by dawn, but the whole army may hear of it from Hilda by then, and surely not an accurate rendition!”

“You have no faith in her, huh? Hilda’s a good woman - you don’t have to worry about some dumb rumours circulating,” Claude hums. Lorenz looks reluctant, almost like he’s considering running after her, but that would hardly befit a gentleman. Instead, he just sighs, shaking his head and dropping the matter.

“I pray that you are correct, Claude. I do not wish to imagine what may happen should rumours begin nipping at our heels.”

\-------------

“So, I have heard word of… last night’s activities.”

Claude watches Lorenz sharply inhale a full sip of tea, coughing harshly to clear his lungs with a few pats from Claude to his back. Seteth stands patiently over the two of them, breakfast still steaming on their plates.

“I assure you, Seteth, I denied him from my quarters each time he tried to creep inside. Do not believe what anyone may have told you!” Lorenz chokes out, able to get a full breath in again. Seteth stares at him, blinking, then clears his throat.

“I was referring to the incident between yourselves and Hilda. Cyril informed me.”

Claude has to hide his grin behind a hand, while Lorenz practically folds in on himself, face impressively red as he buries it in his hands. 

“Yeah, I guess other people are noticing I’m acting different.”

“Apparently.” Seteth sighs, pinching his brow. “We cannot have incidents like this distracting our generals right now, Claude. Surely you understand this, so if you could at least try and restrain yourself around Lorenz-”

“Can’t,” Claude cuts in. Seteth looks at him, and Lorenz finally lowers his hands, looking incredulous at both the answer and the interruption itself. “Look, I’ve honestly been trying to, but it’s… hard. Really hard. It’s like there’s something in me that’s always dragging me to him, telling me to touch him and hold him.” Claude doesn’t even blink at the words, while Lorenz mutters a prayer to the Goddess. “Really, I’m not making this such a hassle just for fun. I’ve been working on it for the past day,” he finishes, gesturing vaguely. 

“I… see. So, we cannot avoid the issue of our own volition, short of locking you in your quarters," Seteth replies at length, and Claude nods.

“While I would not object to such an arrangement, it would surely only raise suspicions if Claude were to suddenly go missing. We certainly cannot leave things as they stand, though.” Lorenz finally finds his voice again, speaking up, and Claude rolls his eyes. No way would he let them coop him up in his room for the next Goddess-knows how long.

“We tell them before they get carried away,” he proposes instead, tone of voice suggesting it should be the most obvious thing in the world. Seteth, surprisingly enough, nods.

“I must agree. These sorts of things can take on a mind of their own, if left unaddressed for too long. I advise we have a proper war council meeting to inform them all of our current situation, and lay any further incidents to rest _before_ they happen.”

Lorenz gapes at the man, then at Claude, clearly appalled at the thought of telling their entire old class that Claude was, for all intents and purposes, _in love_ with him. Claude, however, doesn’t seem to have a single reservation. 

“Exactly. Call for a meeting right after breakfast; the sooner we get this done, the better.”

Seteth nods, and departs with a short, “It will be done,” in his wake. Looking content, Claude stabs a fork into his breakfast, going back to eating. 

“Glad that that’s taken care of.”

Lorenz stares at him, and Claude feels like there’s a million thoughts racing behind those eyes of his. Eventually, the man just slumps, allowing his face to once again fall into his hands, shoulders hunched. Claude reaches out to pat his shoulder in comfort. For once, Lorenz doesn’t even try to bat it away.

\-----------------

“He drank a _what?_?"

Claude watches Lorenz shift beside him, likely fighting back the urge to just sink down in his chair until he was out of sight, propriety and embarrassment warring somewhere in him. Claude shoots him an encouraging smile from his newly claimed spot right beside Lorenz at the table, but it does little more than encourage the man to finally crack a little, shoulders hunching.

“Aw, our little Claude has his first crush,” Hilda giggles, as carefree as ever. While Claude is certain she didn’t expect this, she had at least known something was up. Everyone knew why the meeting had been called, having heard a brief summary of events from both Seteth and Manuella, but Hilda was certainly not intent on apologizing for driving them to it. Especially not when she had been right.

“I don’t know if I’d really call this his first crush. It isn’t actually real love, right?” Leonie says, and Ignatz nods worriedly beside her as she glances between him and Hilda.

“I have to agree. A love potion doesn’t really make you fall in love… right? He seems more infatuated, from what we’ve heard.”

“Oh, who cares? Claude is happy, and that’s all that matters, right? I don’t think we need to sweat the details,” Hilda huffs, waving them off.

“I think the details are what we need to figure out,” Lysithea grumbles, and Ignatz nods again, brow pinched.

“Yes. They may be the key to finding out what he really drank. Infatuation isn’t quite as deep or true as love is, so he would act differently based on what it is; I think Claude would need to have prior feelings to truly-”

“I think Claude is right here and still able to speak for himself,” Claude cuts in, brow raised at the four of them. Ignatz flushes, looking quite embarrassed at getting ahead of himself, but Hilda laughs him off.

“Oh, you know we don’t mean anything by it, silly,” she assures, and Claude sighs, chin resting in the palm of his hand. Under the table, his other hand tries to seek out Lorenz’s, brushing the back of it. It’s slapped away for the sixth time this meeting.

“Our more pressing concern, everyone, now that you are aware of Claude’s condition, is why the Empire needs such a potion. What could they hope to gain with it?”

Ah, trust Seteth to get them back on track, as usual. Claude nods along in agreement, eager for a different subject to analyze than the legitimacy of his feelings. He had enough questions about them himself - he doesn’t need everyone’s input just yet. 

“Gotta agree. I’ve been wondering the same thing myself, and I’m starting to think those bandits might’ve been working for someone else too. Or, maybe, they were never Empire at all - they could’ve been doing some simple black market trades.”

“And why, pray tell, would you doubt our information now? You were quite certain when we set off on that mission.” It’s the first time Lorenz has spoken up all meeting, certainly a record for him. He normally has plenty to say on each and every strategy, tactics to suggest or alternate routes they could take. It’s strange to hear him stay so silent, and Claude relaxes a little now that that silence is broken up - even if it is to accuse him.

“I wasn’t totally certain, you know that - it just made sense. But as many secrets as Edelgard hid from us, she was never one for such underhanded tactics like this. She’s way more straight forward and brutal - emotionally manipulating her enemy with love potions just really doesn’t seem like her style,” Claude replies, looking over at Lorenz and meeting his eyes. His gaze isn't held for long. Seteth clears his throat, redirecting attention to himself.

“I have to agree, Claude. Whatever this is, it does not feel like the Empire’s next move into Kingdom territory, or even Alliance. I, too, believe there may have been another party set to receive those vials, rather than the Empire outposts. And, if that is the case, then there are those in Kingdom territory who know what this potion truly does, and hopefully, a cure for it. There is no guarantee, of course, but they should at least know something more than us. Which, at the moment, is nothing.” Frustration pinches Seteth’s brow, and he rubs at his temples. The poor guy must’ve spent all of yesterday trying to research the potion. He has Claude’s sympathy - the library is truly void of any mention of the lilac substance. He wonders if the books Seteth had thrown out would’ve helped them and, yet again, wishes the library hadn’t been so controlled.

“So, what exactly is the plan here?” Claude asks, and Seteth looks over at Byleth, who sits at the head of the table. They nod, and Seteth takes a breath.

“We will be making excursions into Kingdom territory to find out where the bandits were taking the potions. Shamir has already been sent to start gathering whatever information her spy network can find - once we hear back from her, we will be setting out at once to confront whatever group was set to receive them.”

There’s some nodding around the table, plenty of agreement to the plan, but Claude frowns. Something twists in his gut at the thought of doing all this just to end the effects of the potion, something that sits heavy and dark.

“It makes sense, but we don’t really have the time to go running into Kingdom territory right now. The Empire could attack our borders any day, and we don’t have the resources to split up the army for a potentially fruitless hunt. Now, I’m not saying this potion isn’t doing anything, but it isn’t our biggest concern. We can last another month or two, get a better foothold; I’ll prove I can fight just fine and we won’t have to divide our attention.”

“Claude, while we are stretched thin, we cannot afford to have you running around after Lorenz right now. We need you focused, and not on him-”

“Why? What’s so wrong with it? I can still think and fight, no matter what you guys say. I just stick a bit closer to Lorenz, we wait it out, go when we can, and everything is fine. I don’t get what the big problem you think we have-”

“Of course you don't.”

Claude pauses, looking at Lorenz beside him. His head is down, but it was definitely him that spoke, though his voice had been… cold? Or perhaps tense, like something was squeezing his throat tight. Whatever it was, it wasn’t a tone Claude had heard before, and he hesitates to ask what Lorenz meant. The noble carries on anyways.

“You never think about how these schemes might affect others. You only look as far as yourself and your ambitions, and run headlong into these things. You might not care that you drank a mysterious potion that is forcing you to fall in love with me, but do not think you are the only affected party here. I, too, have to put up with your outlandish behaviour, and am not eager to have to do so for longer than is strictly necessary. Before you go and declare there to be no problems, perhaps ask others for their thoughts. Perhaps _think_ for once.”

Claude stares, taken off guard by the rant. Lorenz laid into him a lot, certainly, but he hadn’t heard so much emotion behind it before. Little squabbles were common place between them - genuine qualms like this less so. He opens his mouth to reply, but as if sensing it, Lorenz raises his head. The cold glare sent his way freezes the words in his throat, rooting him to the spot. Lorenz huffs, pushing himself to his feet with a scrape of the chair against the stone floor, silence settling heavily over the room.

“I apologize for my outburst, everyone. Please, excuse me. I must take rest.”

Lorenz bows slightly, gaze down, before he strides from the room, not a sound left once the heavy doors close behind him. Claude slowly moves to stand and follow, heart tugging after him, but he stops as he feels a hand grip his wrist. Looking back, he sees Byleth holding it and gently shaking their head. It hurts, letting Lorenz go, like a pit is opening up in his chest. However, even Claude can see Lorenz needs space, so he slowly sits back down, Byleth releasing him once he’s settled. No one seems to know what to say for a while, until Claude clears his throat. 

“...So. When can we expect to hear back from Shamir?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who learnt how to italicize stuff
> 
> edit: my beta has informed me my tenses were horrible and fixed them all for me  
don't drink and write kids


	3. don't try to keep a wyvern chained up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry for the super slow update ! i'm juggling work and college so free time is limited dksjgf but i finally finished this one  
as always thank you to my wonderful beta snitewing for looking over this and making sure it's actually coherent ! love u

Claude comes to as he hears a door closing, just to the right of his own room. It’s an ungodly hour for anyone to be up - he had rarely even heard Felix awaken this early back in their academy days, and that guy did anything to get to the training grounds before they flooded with other students. A part of Claude tells himself to ignore it and go back to the blissful lure of sleep with no one demanding his attention, but that part is drowned out as the other half of him remembers it’s Lorenz’s room on the other side of that wall. His heart jumps a little, the mere thought of the noble enough to stir him, and he sighs. He can feel his weariness slipping away, and doesn’t bother to cling to it, not willing to fight the potion’s demands this once.

Lorenz has always been an early riser, but even this is uncalled for. Glancing out of the window by his bed, Claude notes that the night sky is barely beginning to lighten, dawn a good half hour away at the least. Goddess, he's going to be groggy today. He can’t fathom why Lorenz would need to awaken so early, especially after Claude had heard him pacing his room late into the night.

Sitting upright, Claude scratches at his beard with an undignified yawn, noting it's in need of a trim again. Perhaps he can ask Ignatz to help out - that guy is good with any tool, and some preening never hurt to get Lorenz’s attention. Maybe it would be enough to push past the outburst from yesterday and move on. 

Claude slumps soon after the thought. Of course it wouldn’t. Lorenz had avoided Claude for the entire day thereafter, pretending for all the world like he didn’t exist. Obviously, Lorenz was not so quick to forgive, and was eager to keep his distance from Claude. Despite retiring long before Claude himself, the guy hadn’t been able to sleep, making it pretty obvious he was hiding away.

The mere idea of Lorenz avoiding him, of not being able to see him, has Claude pressing a hand over his heart, chest tight. It aches uncomfortably, a swelling feeling in the back of his throat, and he has to take a few breaths to calm himself. This is all fake, Claude reminds his traitorous heart. Like everyone said, he just drank a potion, and now it's toying with his emotions, making him think he truly loves this man. That he can truly trust him with every part of his being, and not be left downtrodden in the dirt, left to reshape his shell again around easy smiles and flippant jokes. It's all just a lie.

Claude repeats it to himself twenty times, willing himself to believe the thought for an instant, but the second he stops the mantra it feels like the sentiment is blown aside on a light breeze, not one note to weigh it down and make it stick. It doesn't matter how many times he hears it - nothing made this feel any less real. 

There isn’t a single feeling he can pick apart and not find hidden in little gestures long before he drank the potion. Trust that he had shown when he let Lorenz return so easily to the resistance, despite his father’s position. Admiration that thrummed in his veins as Lorenz rode ahead on his steed, racing to help downed allies. Longing in every look Claude had sent across a crowded table at meetings, fingers twitching in his lap while Lorenz raised a brow, and he told himself it was just because someone said something particularly stupid and he was fighting back a reaction. Hell, even lust everytime he glanced over at Lorenz stripping himself in the armoury, sweat dripping down the long line of his neck under an unfairly form-fitting tunic; sometimes even that was shed, Lorenz too hot and impatient to fully finish hanging his armour first after a long day of training. Claude had always been quick to leave on those rare occasions, and he told himself it was just because he didn’t want to make things awkward.

Looking back now, Claude feels truly foolish. Perhaps those feelings were nothing more than those of a man who respected a potential friend and longed for someone to honestly open his heart up to - or maybe he was just a guy who hadn’t lain with a warm body in too many years, and it was starting to get to him. Regardless, it makes it hard to distinguish these feelings from the past ones. It makes it hard to convince himself that there hadn’t been something there, under all the barbs and taunts and spars. And now, no matter how much he says it, no one would believe him.

Groaning low in his throat, Claude ruffles his hair with a hand, before dragging himself from his bed to trod off to the bathrooms and start his - now very long - day. All this introspection is going to give him a headache, and it's far too early for that. He’d at least swipe a few pastries before dooming himself to that fate.

\--------------------

Lorenz, as Claude had expected, makes sure to stay far away from him and continue to ignore his attempts to talk. When breakfast is called, Lorenz is one of the last to show. He chooses to sit himself at a bustling table with strangers rather than join Claude and the rest of the Golden Deer. It continues like that for the next two meals, and even after forcing himself to stay up well past dusk, Claude doesn’t see Lorenz return to his room. The only reason he knows he came back at all is because he hears him leave before dawn again the next day, yet again easily sidestepping Claude’s later hours. It’s terribly frustrating, and Claude can feel that ache in his chest growing with every turn of Lorenz’s heel, pretending he needs to take another path so he doesn’t have to brush past Claude and risk conversation. 

When Claude slumps into Hilda’s room, careless of the delicate charm work she's clearly trying to focus on, he feels like there’s a dagger digging into his heart, wrenching it apart until it's raw and bloody. He dejectedly collapses onto her bed, smothering himself in her pillow with a very over the top groan, legs dangling off the side of the mattress. She says nothing until he does, minutes later.

“He still won’t talk to me.”

“Well, duh. You made him angry, and you haven’t really made up for it. You know how Lorenz can get.”

“It’s been two _days_ though. He’s never been this mad for that long.”

“He’s never had you try to kiss him either.”

“That was one time.”

“...Wait, you actually tried to kiss him?”

Claude glowers at Hilda, turning his face just enough to peek past her ridiculously plush pillow. She must have brought it from home, since his definitely isn’t anywhere close to this quality. Maybe he should steal away into her room more often.

“That’s not the point here.”

“Isn’t it?”

“...Well, how do I fix it?” Claude grumbles, face back in the pillow as he ignores that question. He hears her sigh, and there’s the sound of beads hitting wood and a chair scraping back as she stands. The bed dips beside him moments later, and he lets out a breath as Hilda places a hand on his back. It’s a steadying touch, one he's missed between all this love potion nonsense, and it’s enough to make him roll over to look at her.

“Give him time. Lorenz can hold grudges for a long while, yeah, but even he can’t avoid you forever. This place isn’t _that_ big.”

Claude whines a little, throwing an arm over his eyes. 

“I’ve _given_ him time, though. I feel like I’m going to die, Hilda. Every second I can’t see him is wearing me down. It’s like- like there’s something missing, from inside me. Where he used to be. Like I can’t settle down without seeing him, or talking to him, or touching him. Like I’m too restless to even sleep.”

“...You know how that sounded, right-?”

“Hilda!”

Hilda laughs, hitting his stomach, and Claude lets out a quiet ‘oof.'

“Well, what do you want me to say? I’m not throwing you in a closet again - Seteth already lectured me for an hour after that one!”

“...You won’t even consider it?”

“Go figure out how to get him in a closet yourself, Claude. You still owe me for last time.”

“I owe you for that one?”

“Yup! You liked it, right? So, I should get _something_ back for all that effort.”

“You’re a cruel, cruel soul, Hilda.”

“Says the devil himself.”

“Hey, someone has to play the role,” Claude laughs, and even without a real solution, he finds he feels a little better already. He also has some new plans whirring, and Hilda rolls her eyes, standing up.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyways, I’m reeeeally hungry, but the dining hall is just _so_ far, and I’m all worn out from the great advice I gave-”

Claude is up and out of the room before she can even finish the request, and has her favourite in minutes.

\--------------------

“You’re back early tonight.”

“...Claude.” 

Lorenz regards him, Claude standing in front of his room and blocking the door with a casual stance, pretending to be taken with a worn out cuff on his jacket.

“Given the last two days, you normally wouldn’t be back for another few hours.”

“Yes, well, I am in need of more rest for tomorrow’s duties. If you would so kindly step aside-”

“Nope.”

_”Claude.”_

Claude straightens, ignoring the ache in his back from having stood there for nearly a half hour. He levels Lorenz with a determined look, and really, this is the first time Claude has properly seen the man in a while. He looks… worn. Stressed, perhaps, or simply exhausted. There are slight shadows under his eyes, made all the more pronounced by his pale skin, and Claude feels that determined expression melt into something softer, tinged with concern instead. His heart pounds in his chest, and he nearly trembles with the need to reach out and caress Lorenz’s cheek, to lead him inside and take care of him. Even battered, this man is beautiful, and Claude wets his lips, trying to reign in his thoughts as his emotions try to take control.

“You’ve been running yourself ragged.”

“And I would like to catch up on my rest from doing so, if you don’t mind. I do still have an image to maintain,” Lorenz snips back, crossing his arms, key to his room in hand. He clearly has no patience for this, unhappy to be confronted so suddenly. Claude, however, has no intentions to move quite so quickly. He steps towards Lorenz, whose shoulders slowly raise in turn, tension practically rolling off of him as it builds.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I have been busy.”

“You don’t sit with me at meals.”

“I do have a larger social circle than yourself and the others, Claude. It is good to talk to the rest of the army from time to time and increase morale.”

Claude can feel his brow twitch. Is Lorenz really trying to play dumb now? With such flimsy excuses, too?

“You never did before.”

“Well, that was an oversight on my part, clearly. One I am rectifying now.”

“And you can’t leave room for anyone to join?”

“I simply sit where there is space - my apologies there is no spare room for yourself.”

Goddess, Lorenz is acting like Claude is an idiot, even though Claude knows full well that the man doesn’t really think that. Still, he seems perfectly content to deflect, like this state of things is totally fine to keep going on. Claude’s heart lurches at the thought, and before he can think twice, he’s quickly closing the distance between them, glowering up at Lorenz now. He can see the noble’s throat bob, taken aback by the sudden proximity as he takes one more step back, near the opposite wall now.

“At least admit it.”

“Claude… this is hardly necessary-”

“Don’t give me that. You can’t just yell at me and leave and not expect anything to come of it. Do you have any clue how hard it’s been? Barely seeing you? Watching you avoid me like I’m some sort of disease? It feels like my heart is being torn in two - you can barely stand to look at me, and you don’t even have the decency to admit it. Yeah, I fucked up, drinking that stupid potion. I’m sure it’s rough on you, having to put up with me hanging around you all the time. But maybe you should take your own damn advice. You’re not the only one who’s suffering here. I feel like I’ve lost - lost one of my closest allies. I’ve never -- I thought we had gotten over all the avoiding and being suspicious of each other. I thought that you could at least stand to be around me long enough for a single conversation nowadays. But maybe I was wrong.”

Claude’s hands clench into fists by his sides, brow creased as his gaze drops. When he had planned this confrontation, he had thought through a lot of situations. Apologizing, forcing his way into Lorenz’s room if he tried to run, spilling his heart, maybe even pressing Lorenz up against a wall and kissing the air out of his lungs until he agreed to stop avoiding him - what he hadn’t accounted for, though, was the sheer abrasiveness and outright denial, or for the anger he could feel welling up now, nearly drowning out the singing in his chest at finally being so close to Lorenz.

Lorenz stares in silence, gaze unreadable, and Claude can’t stop himself from continuing.

“I just want to talk to you again, Lorenz. I can’t stand you treating me like you did back then,” he murmurs, and he’s about to say more, when Lorenz shifts, shutting him up quickly. Claude looks up at him hopefully, Lorenz’s own expression unreadable. Instead of saying anything himself, though, Claude watches as Lorenz sidesteps him smoothly, walking to the now open doorway of his room. He unlocks his door quietly, though Claude dimly notices the white knuckled grip he has on the key, just barely keeping his hand steady. His heart is too busy feeling like it’s being torn apart to consider what that might mean.

“Have a good evening, Claude. I will speak to you on these matters at a later time, when you have calmed down and are not so quick to throw around such childish accusations,” he says, his back to Claude. Lorenz doesn’t even glance over his shoulder as he steps inside and shuts the door behind him, the faint sound of the lock sliding back in place a final punctuation to the cold words. 

The fire and the anger and the hope in his heart fizzles out slowly, quelled by the empty wooden door staring back at him. He stands there, moments stretching out into what feels like hours, before numbly going back to his room. He’ll speak to him later. That's something. Lorenz said they could talk tomorrow, and that was a promise. Claude will hold out on that, somehow, instead of letting his feelings swallow him whole. When he finally pulls himself into his bed, Claude feels like nothing is left in his chest, and his dreams that night are particularly fitful.

\--------------------

Claude looks over the dining hall the next morning, devoid of a single member of Golden Deer, and feels his stomach drop. Others still mill around the place, grabbing meals and heading off to take care of chores and such, but he doesn’t see a single one of his old classmates. Not even Raphael, which is ridiculous. Raphael is always here for breakfast.

Baffled, Claude turns his gaze onto the other soldiers, raising a hand to flag down a monk strolling by.

“Hey, have you seen-”

“Sorry, but I don’t have time to chat. I’m late to morning prayer!”

Claude still has his hand raised as the monk basically runs past him, pace doubling as he swiftly leaves the hall. Blinking, Claude slowly turns to ask someone else, only to see everyone with their heads down, pointedly avoiding his gaze after that initial question. Okay. Something is definitely up. Squinting, Claude slowly steps out of the hall, hearing chatter pick up as he rounds the corner from the doors, out of sight. Something is being kept secret from him, and he does not like it one bit.

Wandering through the monastery, Claude tries to ask a few more people about the whereabouts of the Golden Deer, but each time they manage to deflect him before he can even finish. The one person he manages to get the full question of ‘have you seen my friends’ out to just stares silently at him until Claude leaves, more than a little creeped out. It’s like the whole damn monastery was told to keep-

Claude stops in the middle of the marketplace, almost causing a few people to walk into him from behind, grumbling as they step past. 

The whole damn monastery was told to keep quiet about where the others were. 

The sense of dread that had been sitting heavy in his gut sharpens, and hurriedly, Claude strides off to the war room, taking the stairs two at a time. Reaching the second floor of the monastery, Claude finds that it’s devoid of familiar faces, too, just a few skittish looking soldiers eyeing him as he strides through the halls. Opening the doors as he reaches the Cardinal’s room, Claude is unsurprised to find this room empty as all the others had been, but he isn’t looking for people this time. Moving to the side, he starts rummaging through chests and drawers, pulling out territory maps and plans, all things that the monastery has been juggling and keeping an eye on. All things that, potentially, the others had ran off to take care of alone, if some issue had arisen. 

Logically, Claude knows they’re probably fine. His friends are all skilled fighters, and with Byleth leading the charge, they would never misstep even once in combat. However, even knowing that, it doesn’t stop the panic seizing his heart at the thought of Lorenz on the front lines, fighting some unknown battle, without Claude to keep an eye on his back. He can't let the man just run headlong into the fray like that. 

It’s a frantic few minutes of searching, the room a mess, when Claude finally finds what he’s looking for. A crumpled letter, set aside in a rubbish bin that he knows was supposed to be emptied an hour ago, but his storming around had probably scared off the maids before they could. He smooths it out on the empty table, lips pursing as he reads over it. Bandits attacking, immediate aid required, a monster sighted too - all in all, a perfect battle that Byleth would not put off and endanger innocent civilians with.

Claude doesn’t bother to straighten out the room, already running as he turns and dashes out the door, sash and cloak whirling behind him. His head is full of thoughts of Lorenz, and he has no time to think about the hassle he had left behind for the maids. Likely, the Golden Deer had left this morning, mere hours before he woke. It must’ve been why Lorenz said he needed the extra sleep, and Claude curses himself for not picking up on it at the time. That was a pretty dumb oversight on his part. 

Refocusing on the plan he has to make right now, Claude tries to figure out where they might be in their trip to the bandit’s hideout. They would be slow, travelling by horse and on foot, so he has some advantage there. If he leaves immediately, Claude can catch up to them on his wyvern before they reach the field and make sure they don't do anything rash. At the very least, he can get there during the fight, and he finally stops with laboured breaths by the armoury to grab his weapons.

Pausing, Claude ponders his first step; the arduous task of actually getting there. If the others had gone so out of their way as to make sure no one even told him where they had gone, then most likely, the monks were instructed to make sure he didn’t take off after them. He can’t just go the wyvern range and take off like he wants to without being stopped. Hell, he probably can’t even be seen leaving this place at all. Manuela had really been serious about the whole monastery arrest thing.

Gaze roving over the armoury, Claude eyes up rows of armour and thin protective gear. The spare armour for flight patrol is kept here, set aside for whatever soldier got saddled with the job for the week, and Claude is quick to change his flowing yellow and gold outfit out for the standard grey metal. He stashes the clothes away in a drawer for later, and grabs one of the helmets he had seen some of the paladins wearing around. It’s truly stifling, having his entire head and face covered, but it'll work. He hopes. 

Shouldering his weapons and keeping his head down low, Claude finally steps out of the armoury, striding with purpose across the monastery grounds. 

As he had hoped, people barely spare him a second glance. The armour doesn’t totally match, and hangs a bit loose in some places, but to them Claude is just another nameless soldier; someone they might see laying in a ditch in a week, and had no interest in getting to know before then. Even the friendly guard at the front gates does little more than wave to him, apparently not seeing any issue with the strange figure Claude cut across the grounds. Claude has to say he’s a little worried about the integrity of their security, but that's a problem for him to tackle later. For now, it’s a saving grace, and one he takes advantage of eagerly. 

Strolling out of the monastery, Claude takes a sharp turn, stepping past the stairs that wind their way down to the surrounding village. The paths are empty nowadays, no coming and going of merchants selling their wares to occupy them, and that’s definitely saving him as he scrambles across rocks and steadily increasing cliff faces, avoiding the easy path down from Garreg Mach’s perch. Claude has no clue if there are guards in the town right now, and he isn’t about to risk it after getting this far. 

The helmet is tossed aside as soon as Claude’s sure he’s safe from prying eyes, letting him pull in cool breaths of air instead of the hot humid ones he had been suffering through. He has a new respect for the armoured units, he thinks, as he brings two fingers to his lips and lets out a piercing whistle. He has to wait for a while, sounding it a second time, but eventually, he sees those snow white scales cresting the ramparts surrounding the monastery, swooping down. 

His wyvern had never been one to be content being chained up, far too restless to do anything but patrol the skies. He’s immensely thankful for her unruly behaviour now as she clumsily lands on the cliff side he was perched on, grumbling at him for being in such an awkward place. With a smile and a pat to her snout, Claude reassures his mount into helping him up, a firm hand on one of her horns as he swings himself up. 

Unfortunately, his wyvern lacks her usual armour and saddle, so this was going to be an uncomfortable ride, but he couldn’t do much about it now. He’s just glad he has armour on his legs, rather than some soft cloth pant. He shudders to think of the chaffing. 

Carefully, Claude grabs hold of the frills of her jaw, steering her in the direction they need before she leaps from the cliff, stones clattering below them. He keeps low, for a while, avoiding any eyes that might look up and see his form retreating from the monastery, but eventually he can let his wyvern crest up, enjoying the freedom of travel. Claude settles in, a hand on her neck for balance, and thanks Byleth for being so rigorous in his flight training.

Claude’s heart beats in time with her wings as Garreg Mach quickly fades into a dot on the horizon at their backs, that knot of tension slowly easing as he gets closer to where Lorenz will surely be. He had promised him a talk, and Claude won't let him get away so easily just yet.

\--------------------

Claude hears the fighting, first. The sound of magic exploding, metal clanging against metal, and a deep, feral roar that shakes the air. The Deer had traveled faster than he would have liked, and he urges his wyvern to speed up, already drawing his bow and an arrow as he focuses on keeping his weight balanced and even. When they finally crest the hill that had been blocking his view, Claude lets his eyes wander, taking in the whole scene in seconds. The fight can’t have been going on for long - there’s only a few bodies littering the grassy valley, thankfully all with foreign armour on them, and it seems like his allies are still in the midst of the initial charge. Lysithea’s comfortably slinging spells from the back lines, knocking out enemies in a single hit as Ignatz and Leonie pick off stragglers from a distance. Marianne is keeping close to their sides, healing whoever she sees falling behind, while the bandits are torn between attacking them and the great bird aflight in the middle of the field. The monster’s tearing them apart, barely suffering more than a few scratches, and Claude feels like fainting when he sees the front line approaching it in the middle of its frenzy. Byleth in the lead, joined by Raphael and Hilda, and finally Lorenz, pressing in on an unoccupied side while they distracted it. 

The man gracefully swings his lance across the throat of an approaching bandit, dispatching them, before his eyes flicker up. He looks about ready to attack Claude, too, seeing him as another approaching enemy, but it doesn’t last for long when he recognizes the unique gleam of Claude’s wyvern. Claude grins, and fires an arrow at another thug who's getting a bit too close to Lorenz for comfort, aim dead center.

“You cannot be serious-”

“Claude?! Is that you?” Hilda’s voice cuts Lorenz’s exasperated cry off, and Raphael looks up too, grinning.

“Hey, buddy! Glad you made it!” 

“Me, too! You guys don’t make it easy to find you!” Claude laughs, and his wyvern dives down to join the fray with a small squeeze of his thighs, letting him land another hit as he gets in range of the proper fighting. Lorenz and Byleth both look stunned, obviously not nearly so happy to see him, and Claude marvels as his teacher sidesteps an errant rock that the bird flung without even looking. As creepily omniscient in battle as ever.

“Claude, I cannot _believe_-!”

"Can't you?"

"This is utterly foolish! How did you even find us?!"

"Trash got taken out late," Claude replies with a grin, watching Lorenz splutter below him. 

"The trash-?! That hardly explains-!"

“Eyes forward, love! You can lecture me later!” Claude cuts in, hitting a bandit in the knee with a well aimed shot before he can fling an axe at Lorenz. The noble is quick to turn back around and finish him off with another thrust of his lance, huffing as he runs his horse closer to the great beast. 

"I intend to!” he shouts back, before fully refocusing on the fight with little other choice. Claude feels himself relax, the familiar banter and tone putting him at ease after the previous night, and he happily joins the fray.

The backline is still picking off most of the bandits, and Claude feels free to focus on the beast in front of him, still lashing out blindly at everything around it. Claude quickly dodges an errant wing aimed at his head, sticking a few arrows in its side in retaliation and dancing back out of the way as it whirls on him. It screeches in pain and rage, and Claude has to move around a barrage of razor sharp feathers, its attention focusing on him. It’s a losing game of cat and mouse, as Claude and his wyvern expertly dodge and weave around the beast's slower movements, his companions picking away at its armour. It’s definitely a workout for Claude, gripping tight to one of his wyvern’s horns so he doesn’t fly off, but still trying not to pull too much, stomach muscles clenched tight and legs stretched to help him balance. He'll have to practice more bareback riding soon, he muses - it's way more interesting than using a saddle. 

Grinning as his wyvern pulls out of another loop, Claude glances away for a second to see how Lorenz is doing. The man is just tossing a short spear into the beast's wing, grounding it and obviously trying to make his job easier, when Claude sees the bandits moving in. 

Three of them, approaching from Lorenz's rear, forgotten by the backline as they dealt with their own rush of enemies. Clearly, they're eager to take advantage of the distraction the beast is causing and pick off their human assailants, probably trying to dwindle their forces and beat an escape in one piece.

Claude sees the dagger raise, an arm poised to throw right for Lorenz’s back, and he doesn’t think past that. His wyvern folds into a dive with him as he leans forwards, sailing down, and Claude picks off the nearest one with a bow, even at the breakneck speed. It’s enough to give the dagger wielding bandit pause, right as his wyvern pulls up to coast along the ground, startling the living two backwards. Claude rolls off of his wyvern as they pass, made easy by the lack of stirrups, and lands right between Lorenz and the other two bandits. He can hear startled cries from all parties as he scrambles to catch himself on the grass, just barely avoiding a very undignified tumble across it, but ignores their call to fall back for now. 

Bow useless at such a close range, he swiftly drops it and pulls out his axe, swinging at the first bandit to charge him. It cuts deep into the thug’s side despite her attempts to dodge, sending her to the ground with a cry and a spray of blood, soaking her leathers. Two down, just one to-

“Claude!”

That’s all the warning Claude gets before something sharp impales him, piercing his side cleanly where his ill-fitted armour parted to let him bend. There’s a rush of noise, Byleth somehow already by his side and taking out the last bandit with a well placed spell, while Hilda and Raphael finally finish off the beast Lorenz had grounded. 

Claude feels the sword that had run him through slip back out as the thief collapses, weapon still clenched in their hand, and Claude stumbles forwards a few steps. His own back hits the ground a second later as he sways back, and Claude coughs from the impact, tasting blood in the back of his throat and flowing down his side. Goddess, that hurt like hell. He’d taken a lot of wounds over the last five years, and even before then, but none quite this bad. He usually had a better head on his shoulders and ran _away_ from the danger, not headlong into it. That's how you survive, after all. Look out for yourself, help who you can, and don't rush a group by yourself. Maybe Seteth actually was on to something with the whole ‘no fighting’ rule. Maybe. He won't tell the man that anytime soon.

Claude’s thoughts are pulled back to the present moment as Byleth’s weak healing energy washes over him, repairing what they can before he totally bleeds out. He hears the heavy clatter of armoured feet hitting the ground from dismounting, stumbling a little as they start moving too fast, and then Lorenz is hovering over him. He kneels by his side, and Claude notes that he looks pale. Paler than usual, that is, which is almost impressive. His hands hang trembling in the air, as if unsure what to do at that exact moment, eyes flickering between Claude’s - likely gruesome - wound, hidden by armour, and his face. 

Claude tries to give him a smile, tries to reassure him, but Lorenz only looks sickened. The taste of iron in his mouth tells Claude the smile had likely been far more terrifying than the close-mouthed grimace had been.

“Marianne! We need your aid immediately!” Lorenz eventually calls out, finally looking up in the direction the girl must be, tearing his gaze from Claude’s prone form. There’s a raw edge to Lorenz’s voice, a tremor where it normally rang strong and confident, if not haughty. It doesn’t suit him, Claude muses, that shaky tone. Nor do the shadows that cling to his face when he looks back down at Claude, shoulders blocking the sun and hair acting as a veritable veil for him, like all he can focus on is Claude as he blocks out everything else around them, the sounds of fighting coming to an end with a shout from Lysithea.

“You damned _idiot_,” he hisses, and finally, his hands find purchase on Claude, one resting on his chest and the other moving to cradle his head. The faint sting tells Claude he had definitely hit it on the way down, likely muddying his hair with blood and dirt the longer he lay there, and he’s grateful for the soft cushion of a warm palm now against whatever wound he may have gotten. He’s also grateful it’s Lorenz by his side, reassuring him as Byleth pulls back, powers expended. Painful as the situation is, if it means Lorenz cradled him like this again, perhaps he would give up on his whole run away first strategy. He’s sure Lorenz could survive a _few_ more heart attacks, at least. 

That manages to get him to crack a smile to himself, even as Lorenz pulls him closer, head practically in his lap now as he cradles Claude close to him, hunched over his form and far closer than he's been in days. Claude can swear he sees tears in the corners of his eyes, but he doesn’t point them out, not even when he feels a salty drop hit his cheek. “I cannot believe you were foolish enough to rush in like that - what were you _thinking_, taking on three enemies all at once?! You could have been killed! Almost were, in fact!”

“You’re welcome,” Claude chuckles back, though the laughter is broken by pained coughs wracking his chest. Lorenz’s breath hitches, the hand on the back of his head tightening a little in its grip on his hair, and Lorenz hugs him a little closer, as if scared Claude might disappear in that moment. It's a nice thought, Claude thinks. Lorenz being so afraid for him for reasons beyond the worry that their resistance might crumble around them and leave the Alliance to wither under the Empire's heel.

Distantly, Claude hears hooves pounding across the field, and he groggily glances up to see Leonie dashing over with Marianne on her horse, Lysithea sprinting after them. The soft spoken woman dismounts quickly, kneeling by him and wasting no time in channeling her magic. A warmth washes over Claude, and he sighs as the pain slowly dims, the magic doing all it can to reknit his wound. He’s sure there’s organ damage in there somewhere, which is what Marianne is focusing on, hands pressed over his stomach, and soon Lysithea joins her. They’re nearly empty, he can tell, and he can just feel the wound starting to close when they both stop, panting.

“That’s… that’s all I can do… I’m sorry. We healed so much before, we don’t have much power left,” Marianne murmurs, her entire expression pinched in guilt. Hilda wastes no time in coming over, putting an arm around her.

“C’mon, you did plenty! It’s not like Claude will die from doing something that stupid! Right, Claude?”

The look Hilda sends him is enough to send a chill down his spine, and he hurriedly nods.

“Y- yeah. I wouldn’t die that easily! I can tell you stopped the bleeding, and fixed up whatever that sword did inside me. I’m good,” he hurriedly assures, and he tries to sit up to show it. He gets about halfway, before pain stabs up his side, and he collapses back down with a strained grunt. Lorenz catches him before his head hits the ground again.

“You need to stop talking so much, Claude. Save your strength. We must get you back to the monastery, before you do anything worse,” he chides, and Claude grimaces.

“Yeah… that might be a bit hard. Don’t think I can fly my wyvern back, or walk,” he mutters, breathing deep to steady his voice. Lorenz huffs, shaking his head.

“Well, of course. I am under no illusion that you can manage yourself right now. You will be riding with me, as fast as we can manage to the monastery. Come, everyone! We must hurry back.”

Lorenz raises his voice to address the group, and everyone nods after a glance at Byleth. Byleth gives Claude a stern look, and Claude sheepishly grins under it before they stand to oversee the process, making sure nothing was left behind and that the bandits were truly routed. 

“Raphael, please, assist me.”

“‘Course!”

Claude feels delicate arms pull away, replaced by strong and sturdy ones. He gasps as he’s lifted from the ground, pain singing along his side despite Raphael’s best attempts to not jostle him. Lorenz is already mounted, and gently, he helps pull and guide Claude onto his horse. 

Legs swung over just one side, Claude gratefully leans into Lorenz’s breastplate, the noble wrapping a secure arm around his waist, avoiding the wound lower down. It’s grounding, and so, so warm. Claude can’t remember the last time he felt so safe - or maybe that's the blood loss talking, lulling him into a comfortable haze of sturdy grips and firm steel. 

“My knight in shining armour,” Claude jokes, eyes fluttering shut. Lorenz quietly hushes him.

“I said to be quiet, did I not? Rest, Claude. We will get you back safe and sound, and shall talk later,” he assures, and Claude, despite years of empty promises and being on edge, honestly believes him. He relaxes wholly against Lorenz, trusting him to keep him upright as the man urges his horse to start off, heading off with the rest of the cavalry ahead of the group. 

Claude can hear his wyvern circling restlessly above them, obviously distressed, but she follows, seeming to keep an eye over the group. Despite the injury, despite the adrenaline, despite all his worries from the previous night, Claude finds himself drifting off, feeling safe and protected in Lorenz’s arms, the faint smell of lavender and a steady heartbeat lulling him to sleep.

\--------------------

When Claude wakes, there’s a faint pressure on his hand, and he opens his eyes to a familiar stone ceiling. It doesn’t take long to figure out where he is, the smell of medicine hanging in the air, and that one stain that looks like a weird dog still decorating the stone right above his head. It’s an increasingly familiar room, and Claude is reluctant to really admit he's getting so used to seeing it. Turning his head, Claude pauses his attempts to sit up when he sees Lorenz, hand resting on top of his own, grip only lax from sleep. His head is tucked into his chest, armour barely removed, and Claude grimaces at the thought of the pain his neck will be in when he wakes. 

The sight sends something thrumming through his heart, though. Lorenz, with soft hair spilling over his open coat, slouched back in a wooden chair and breathing softly with his head cocked in Claude's direction. His eyelids flutter in his sleep, dreaming, and his long lashes grace the curve of his high cheek bones, stark against pale skin. 

Claude carefully turns his hand upright to hold onto Lorenz's properly, watching those long fingers subconsciously curl over his own smaller hand, calluses brushing over his near unmarred palm. It fits almost uncomfortably well, a perfect slot against his own grip, and Claude breathes slowly, feeling a stinging at the back of his eyes. 

He longs to pull Lorenz in close, to wrap him in the covers with him and brush a hand through that long hair. To caress that smooth cheek and watch it colour with warmth and embarrassment both, to angle Lorenz's face to his and softly kiss those thin lips, to taste whatever floral tea Lorenz had recently brewed upon them. Claude isn't one to write poems often, but he thinks, looking upon Lorenz while a small line of drool trails from his open mouth, he could get into the habit. 

Shifting to face him properly, Claude flinches as pain lances up his side, his wound obviously not finished healing. His hand subconsciously squeezes Lorenz's as he takes a sharp breath. 

The movement must wake him, as the man snorts in a rather undignified display as he jerks his head up, eyes wandering for a moment before landing on Claude's open ones. The sleep that was still keeping his eyes lidded seems to nearly vanish as they instead widen, Lorenz leaning in towards Claude. 

"You're awake."

"Yeah. Regrettably," Claude sighs, carefully shifting to take the pressure back off of his side with a soft groan. He feels Lorenz lay a hand on his shoulder, expression concerned, and that warmth in his heart grows. Goddess, he loves this man, potion or not.

"Don't look at me like that, I'm fine. Really."

“Hardly. You have been unconscious for a whole day,” Lorenz chides, and Claude looks outside the window to see that, indeed, there's a new dawn cresting over the horizon. He looks back towards Lorenz, then.

“Have you been here the whole time?”

“I- well-” Lorenz stumbles on his words, seemingly at a loss for once as Claude feels a grin slowly spread across his face. Lorenz flushes, indignant as he draws himself up taller, trying to save face.

“That is hardly our most pressing concern right now. Instead, we have things to discuss,” he says, and suddenly a glare is settling on his face, lips a thin line. Uh-oh.

"Uh-oh."

"I cannot _believe_ you did something so foolish, Claude!” 

The addressed noble cringes a little, shrinking down under the sudden scrutiny and start of a lecture. It was expected, yeah, but he had just woken up. Give a guy a break. Lorenz, barely drawing breath from what Claude can hear, does not. 

“We explicitly told you that you were unfit for battle, and went to such pains to leave without your knowing so you would not be tempted to follow, and still! Still, you show up, like some- some lost dog we fed one too many times. We had everything under control, Claude, and yet you had to barge in and get yourself nearly killed.”

“But-”

“No! There are no buts here, Claude! You- stop making that face, this is serious! You cannot go risking your life so easily. The whole of the Alliance relies on you as things stand, as does the army, in part. You must consider your actions much more carefully!”

Claude is loathe to say he has a point, of course, but he can’t brush it off as some paranoid ramblings - if he had been in his right mind, Claude could've taken out those bandits from a distance easily. They both know he could have shot an arrow at the one about to attack and alerted Lorenz, and everything would have been fine, with minimal injuries to either party. But the thought of what may have happened if he missed his shot, or couldn’t warn Lorenz, and he ended up in the infirmary instead, all because he couldn’t act fast enough… that was far more painful than the injury he had sustained, and damn whatever common sense and self-preservation had to say to the contrary.

"I don't regret it," Claude says, interrupting Lorenz from continuing as he drew in another breath. The man pauses, looking incredulous, and Claude idly notes that through this all, Lorenz still hadn't pulled his hand back. Claude squeezes it, and is glad when the grip isn’t immediately broken.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I don't. Even if I had been permanently wounded, or lost a limb, I wouldn't regret a thing. I wouldn't regret saving you, no matter what it cost me."

"Claude-"

"Ah, you're up."

Seteth interrupts whatever Lorenz is about to say, and Claude is both relieved and disappointed. Relieved to not have to deal with whatever words Lorenz might have said to shoot him down, but disappointed that his rare chance to talk to him alone has been interrupted. It also makes Lorenz pull his hand back at last, and Claude's hand feels all the colder for it. Byleth is right behind Seteth, gaze stern, and Claude can only grin sheepishly at them, slowly pulling his hand back.

"Heya, Teach. Seteth. Fancy seeing you here."

Twin sighs meet his words as they move to stand beside Lorenz, Seteth crossing his arms. 

"How are you feeling?" he asks, and Claude shrugs. 

"I don't feel like I'm gonna die anymore," he jokes. "I’m sure I'll be fine with some more sleep."

"Good. Well, we will certainly have a full talk about your actions later, when you are better. For now, though, we have to decide what to do with Lorenz."

The words pull a frown from Claude, and he looks at Lorenz, who merely looks resigned. Obviously, they had spoken of this before; likely while he was unconscious.

"What do you mean?"

"I will give you the benefit of the doubt in assuming that it was the effects of the potion that made you act so brashly. As such, it is obvious you cannot go too far from Lorenz. Either we must risk bringing you to the battle field again and have you pull more… stunts, like you did, or, we remove Lorenz from active duty as well. If we do, you will feel no need to follow us into battle, and will remain in the monastery as you are supposed to."

Claude wants to argue that he went to help everyone; that he had been fearful for all of the Golden Deer, unwilling to let them fight alone without him and his wyvern to help. But the thought of them going to fight without Lorenz doesn't scare him half as badly as it does if they brought him with them. The thought of that dagger actually hitting Lorenz in the back, downing him to be run through like he himself had been… Claude's hand subconsciously clenches the sheets where it rests, lips pursed, and tongue heavy in his mouth. He won’t outright lie to Seteth.

"I will remain here."

There's not a beat of hesitation as Lorenz answers, nor a single tremor of doubt in his voice. He doesn't look at Claude as he speaks, gaze steady on Seteth, and Claude blanks. 

"What- you can't-"

"I'm not going to endanger you again. I will remain here, until we cure you and things can return to normal."

Seteth nods.

"A most prudent decision. We cannot afford to lose either of you. The Knights and I will help to make up for your absence in any necessary excursions, so please, do not worry about that."

"Thank you, Seteth." 

There’s no way Lorenz wants to stay at the monastery with him for Goddess knows how long, Claude thinks, frowning. He sounds confident, but that doesn’t mean much, in his opinion.

"You're really okay with that?” Claude can’t help but ask, head turned to watch Lorenz carefully. “You're gonna be stuck here for at least another week. With me. Probably for longer."

"It is not ideal, certainly, but it's better than the alternative. I will manage to entertain myself."

Lorenz looks at him, nodding calmly.

“Unlike you, I do not find the idea of staying here so abhorrent.”

Okay, now that wasn’t fair. He never said it was that bad. Claude wants to say more to the point, but Seteth cuts in, effectively keeping him from continuing.

"Well, if that is all, then we shall leave you to rest. Heal up soon, Claude. We are hoping for Shamir to return within the next week or so, and we will need you in your top condition to join us."

"Got it, Seteth," Claude sighs, running a hand through his hair, resigned.

Bidding them both farewell, Seteth and Byleth exit the room, seemingly content knowing that Claude isn't about to die on them anymore. Surprisingly, Lorenz doesn't follow them, still sat beside Claude. He had expected the man to be out as soon as he could, but instead, Lorenz simply shifts, almost looking awkward. Silence falls in the room as the footsteps of the others fade, and Claude starts fidgeting with the sheets, until he can't stand it anymore.

"I'm sorry."

"Pardon?"

It must not be what Lorenz was expecting him to say, because he sounds surprised, and perhaps a bit wary. Claude keeps his gaze down, his expression pinched as a slight frown tugs at his lips. Lorenz had promised to talk, and even if he leaves without saying anything in return, Claude has to speak up. He has to get everything off of his chest, before it crushes him.

"I'm sorry for running in like that. I know it was stupid, but I just… couldn't think."

Silence meets him, so he keeps going, while he still has the chance.

"This… spell, or whatever it is. It makes it practically impossible to stop thinking about you. Whenever I can't see you, I feel like I need to go to your side. When I realized just how far away you were, and that you would be in danger… I thought I was going to pass out or- something. I didn't even think about stopping myself from following you, Lorenz. Which might just be the potion at fault, but I couldn't stand not being able to watch over you." Claude takes a breath, looking up to see Lorenz's eyes fixed on him, listening intently. 

"I get that I freaked you out," Claude continues, emboldened. "And I am sorry for that. I know it would be bad if I left the Alliance leaderless; that'd be a lot of stress on you, and that's the last thing I want, least of all the Empire winning the war if things go south."

Lorenz blinks, and he looks surprised at the reasoning. As if there was more to it. The man sighs, gaze dropping after a moment, and Claude grimaces, bracing himself to be brushed off again.

"Not that any of this matters, since I'm pretty sure you hate me now. So much for getting over our issues, huh? Hilda will have a field day rubbing that one in."

"I don't hate you," Lorenz cuts in quickly, frowning. Claude gives him a dubious look in return.

"You sure? Because last I checked, you don't go out of your way to avoid someone you like."

Lorenz's lips purse, and he almost looks embarrassed at the words. His gaze awkwardly flits to the corner of the room as he clears his throat. His hands, placed carefully in his lap, switches position, a habit Claude had noticed he did whenever he was nervous.

"I know how things may have looked, but I promise. I do not hate you, Claude. Truly. I should be the one apologizing, not you."

Well. This is unexpected. Claude wasn't expecting an apology from Lorenz, and especially not right now, right after the stunts he pulled. He isn't quite sure what to say, but Lorenz doesn't need any encouragement to continue, straightening up.

"I have been working through some of my own feelings - things I'm not sure how to deal with at present. I regret to say that the brunt of those frustrations have fallen on your shoulders. Whether brought about by you or not, I have not been fair to you, Claude. It is extremely unfitting of a noble such as myself to take my problems out on any other individual. So, again. I am sorry for my treatment of you."

Claude, slowly, nods mutely, his heart pounding. Lorenz is looking so sincerely at him, completely open, and he isn’t totally certain how to respond. Still, he can’t leave the guy hanging, so he clears his throat and forces himself to say something.

“You uh- thanks, but… couldn’t you have just told me you needed time to think? Or really, said anything at all? You didn’t have to pull back that much just to work through some things.”

“I… truth be told, I was worried your symptoms would worsen the more I spent time with you; perhaps reaching the extent where you would barely be able to think normally at all. After what happened in the closet, I presumed it best to keep our contact to a minimum. However, it seems I was wrong. My avoiding you has only worsened our situation, and nearly gotten you killed.”

The concern Lorenz conveys in those words warm Claude’s heart, and he has to force out a laugh before he really does try and kiss Lorenz again, the idea so, so tempting. Lorenz may be speaking to him again right now, but Claude isn’t looking to push his luck just yet. But he still has to keep his word, so he tries to distract the both of them.

“Well, that’s a nice sentiment. You don’t have to worry about that, though. It’s definitely impossible for me to fall any more in love with you than I already have,” he jokes, hoping to lighten the mood and pull some flustered reaction from Lorenz. That was familiar territory - something they both could navigate easily. Instead, though, the man is silent at the words, and Claude’s grin goes strained.

“Uh, I mean, I think the potion has already taken care of that. So you really don’t have to avoid me anymore, since it can’t get any worse. I don’t think being around me more will do anything to me!”

“...Fretting does not suit you, Claude. Don’t worry, I will not avoid you anymore.”

Claude sighs, the rising panic in his chest quickly quelling, relief washing over him.

“Way to give a guy a heart attack,” he gripes, and the whine surprisingly pulls a smile from Lorenz. He had been expecting some sort of scoff and comment, but Lorenz’s gaze is calm, almost amused. Maybe actually amused, he thinks, studying his expression for a moment.

“If it makes you feel better, how does having tea with me sound? Once you are healed, of course.”

“What- you serious?”

“Of course. I would not invite you in jest,” Lorenz snorts, that Goddess damned smile still on his perfect face. Claude has to keep himself from gaping, baffled at the sudden reverse in situations. He certainly wasn’t one to shoot down an opportunity like this though, so he returns the smile with a wide grin.

“As soon as I’m better. That’s a promise, right?”

“Naturally.”

“Good. I’m going to hold you to that, then,” Claude chuckles, and Lorenz nods.

Finally, he stands from the chair, and Claude’s brow raises as he hears Lorenz’s knees crack from the movement. Just how long had he sat there? He wants to ask, but he has more pressing concerns, like Lorenz pressing a hand to his arm. It’s wonderfully warm, and far more distracting than it should be.

“Rest well, Claude. I will see you after you’re cleared from the infirmary.”

“You’re making me want to run out without Manuela’s sayso.”

His joke is met with a glower, and Claude laughs, raising his hands.

“Okay, okay. I’ll wait for her. But you better keep your word.”

“A true noble always does,” Lorenz replies, nodding at him as he steps back, hand slipping away. It’s ridiculously endearing, knowing just how much those words really mean to Lorenz. Claude can _feel_ the lovesick smile on his face as he watches Lorenz turn and stride from the room, shutting the door after himself. 

He might’ve had to get stabbed for this to happen, but he had never been happier. Tea with Lorenz, and a shot at repairing their friendship. It’s almost enough to make sleep impossible to find, but after an hour of laying there with nothing but his own thoughts, it eventually claims him again, bringing dreams of bergamot tea and gentle laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> claude, stabbing himself for lorenz: maybe i just like him as a friend


	4. trying to run an army is harder than you think

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> literally just dabs and collapses

Claude’s lips are… surprisingly soft. For someone who has to ride a wyvern through strong winds and spend hours discussing plans, they’re softer than they have any right to be. Lorenz would be angry at the thought if he wasn’t being distracted by more pressing concerns - namely, Claude’s lips on his, the man pushing him back into his bed. 

There’s a healthy flush on both of their cheeks, Claude bracing himself with one hand on the bed, the other tangled in Lorenz’s hair. He gasps at a sudden tug from that hand, a pleasant shudder running down his spine, and _Goddess_, how did he even end up like this-

The ghost of breath over his lips pulls his thoughts back, and he opens his eyes to find Claude watching him, eyes lidded. There’s an endless depth to those eyes - a forest’s worth of greens and verdant hues, with just as many secrets hidden within. All of it is focused on him, in a tangible intensity that he’s never been able to coax from Claude by himself. It’s enough to deepen the flush on his cheeks, and Claude, the bastard, merely chuckles, that damnable little smile playing on his lips.

“Deer caught your tongue?”

“You know that isn’t even how the saying goes.”

“Well, no, but does it really matter right now? I think you have _bigger_ things to worry about.”

“You are incorrigible-”

Lorenz’s words are effectively cut off by another kiss, Claude’s hand trailing down from his hair to cup his jaw as teeth bite at his bottom lip. His breath hitches, and Lorenz presses back into the kiss just as hard, deepening it, and the feeling of Claude licking into his mouth with a low noise is indescribable- 

Bells ring outside, shocking Lorenz back to his senses as they sound through the small room, echoing off the stone. His eyes snap open, and the warm pressure of Claude’s body fades, turning instead into the familiar press of heavy quilts. Taking a steadying breath, Lorenz stares up at his ceiling, feeling far too overheated under them as the morning bells announce the start of another day. With a groan, Lorenz very slowly raises a hand, rubbing firmly at his eyes to clear the sleep and the visions of tan skin hovering over his own.

_Goddess help him._

\--------------------

“Another report has come in, General Gloucester.”

Tired eyes raise from the paperwork Lorenz had been reading to look at the monk standing in the doorway, an apologetic expression on their face. He’s surrounded by various stacks of parchment as is, taking up a good portion of the table in the cardinal’s room. With a weary wave of his hand, Lorenz gestures for them to add it to the ever growing pile, looking back down to the current report. A twenty page update on the progress of their new trade route - exhausting to read, but satisfying. He’s glad to hear that everything is going smoothly as so far, the merchants working diligently to start supplying their resistance.

Normally, these matters were handled by Claude, but with the man in the infirmary sleeping off his injuries still, Lorenz had found it only natural he step up to the plate. He had prepared himself for such a role for years, after all - he knew exactly how much work it would be. He had not, however, anticipated just _how_ much more the war would add to the work of the Alliance leader. Excluding the reports purely associated with their small army, he swears there is double the normal amount of writing that has to be handled by the Riegans, and that was certainly saying something.

For all of their qualms in the past, Lorenz is not ashamed to admit that he is impressed. Despite the appearances that Claude put up of lazing about and handling his duties in his sleep, Lorenz can’t imagine he’s had time for much of anything _aside_ from handling the monster that is this paperwork. He imagines the forced medical leave might do him some good. He also thinks he might understand why Claude found drinking a strange potion to be a good idea. If Lorenz has to receive one more complaint about a minor noble squabble amidst all of the actually important reports, he might just tear his hair out.

Claude had managed to keep up with this all these years, though, so Lorenz is certain he can do it for a mere handful of days. If not for his own image, then for Claude’s sake, when he finally takes over his role again. The man has enough to deal with without a buildup of reports to read and plans to make, and if Lorenz can ease his burdens even a fraction... 

Straightening up as the monk places the new paperwork on the endless pile, Lorenz redips his quill and gets back to work, vigor renewed. 

\--------------------

Two days pass like this, full of reports, hastily eaten meals, more reports, and the occasional restless night. Through it all, Lorenz keeps a careful ear out for updates of Claude’s condition. Had someone told him years ago that he would one day be worrying over Claude like a wife left behind during a war, he would have had a good laugh over the very idea. Him, watching over Claude for any reason aside from exposing his no doubt treacherous political plots? Preposterous. 

Now, though, as he checks in daily with Manuela to hear how he is, he can only ruminate on just how much his life has changed since the heir apparent stepped into his life. It truly was just one thing after another.

Lorenz at least tries to pretend it still bothers him as much as it should. 

It’s just as he’s finishing a battle report detailing another skirmish that he hears the knock, and Manuela pokes her head into the room.

“Knock knock! I hope you aren’t working yourself completely ragged in here.”

Her voice is as welcome and melodic as ever, and Lorenz doesn't have to fake the smile that comes to his lips this once.

“Manuela. I assure you, I am much better at taking care of myself than that fool. Not all of us believe the Alliance can march on so easily without a leader when he succumbs to exhaustion.”

Manuela chuckles alongside Lorenz at that, finally stepping into the room proper.

“It’s a wonder that boy hasn’t gotten himself killed by now. He’s lucky he’s so smart!”

“Claude is lucky for a great many reasons.”

Sharing a rueful smile, Lorenz stands up from the table, coming around it to meet Manuela.

“I assume there is a reason for your visit? Not that I mind the company. Yours is always welcome.”

“Oh, you flatterer. Much as I wish I could say that was it, you and I are both far too busy for meaningless visits right now. I just wanted to let you know that Claude will be leaving the infirmary tonight. I’ll be doing some final checks on him, but after those, he’ll be right as rain! Still spelled with that potion, of course, but physically speaking, he has little more than a new scar.”

A tension that Lorenz didn’t know ran through his shoulders eases, and it feels like someone has just cut an invisible string that had been pulling him along all this time. Three days of Claude recovering from near death was more than he could take. He swears, the man will put him in an early grave from stress alone - which is perhaps Claude's true grand plan. Lorenz certainly wouldn't put it past him.

“Thank you for letting me know, Manuela. I will be sure to notify the others as well - Claude will need to be back in war meetings as soon as he is able.”

Manuela nods, looking relieved that she wouldn’t have to be the messenger. Lorenz knows she’s been more than a little busy, handling so many injuries from the constant skirmishes - he’s glad he can ease at least some of her troubles.

They chat for a few more minutes, before Manuela excuses herself to finish checking on her patients for the night, and Lorenz is left to finish his work. It’s only a half hour later that he’s emerging from the cardinal’s room for the night, quietly shutting the door after himself.

He’s tempted to visit Claude as his feet carry him past the infirmary, but… there are still things to do that require his full attention. He’ll see him tomorrow - he need only be patient.

His steps are light as he leaves the upper floor, heading through the monastery to the dorms that have been cleaned and dusted off for their use. With all official matters handled and the promise of Claude’s return, he can finally allow himself the time to handle his personal correspondences. More than a few letters await his reply, and he simply cannot put them off any longer.

\----------

Morning in the monastery comes as early as ever, bells ringing out as the very first hint of sun announces the arrival of dawn. Lorenz doesn’t even need to check to see whether Claude is still sleeping as he readies himself for the day, ensuring his appearance is as put together as ever. While half the monastery is up and about by now, readying food and patrols for the day, Claude has never woken before you could see the sun in all the years Lorenz has known him. He has a feeling the near death experience hasn’t changed any of that.

Still, for once, he won’t complain. It gives him ample time to set everything up without worry of Claude arriving too early. Brushing the last of the tangles from his hair, Lorenz plucks a piece of parchment from his desk to write a quick note to Claude. Satisfied with the neat cursive, he carefully folds the letter and steps out of his room, pausing by Claude’s door. As expected, not a sound indicates his being awake, and it’s a simple matter to push the letter under the gap of Claude’s door to find when he does drag himself from bed. The man was lucky Lorenz was so patient.

With the note delivered, Lorenz grabs his personal tea set and heads out to the gazebo, setting the cups and tea down before he brings the pot to the kitchens, delighting in the smell of fresh baked goods hanging heavy in the air. Just as he had requested. 

Raphael is already in there, taking a modest (comparatively) helping of the pastries, and Lorenz gives the cook a thankful nod as he fills the pot and grabs his own array of treats. While they _are_ in the middle of preparing for war, and are rationing their supplies carefully, the occasional splurge is within their budget. It's a simple matter of pulling a few strings and reminding Seteth of their upcoming shipment from the completed trade route to convince them that the army was long overdue for some sort of treat. Morale can only last so long on words alone, and a full stomach is a strong motivator for many. Lorenz takes just enough for himself and Claude, leaving plenty enough to be enjoyed by everyone else. He’s sure the sudden menu change will be appreciated by everyone, especially Lysithea. 

It’s with these thoughts and a smile playing at his lips that Claude finally finds him.

The man looks… haggard. As if he had just dragged himself out of bed after a week-long sleep, which really isn't entirely inaccurate. Lorenz gets the distinct feeling that had it not been for his little invitation to meet for breakfast in the gazebo, Claude would have happily rolled over and gone right back to sleep. It's for his own good that that wasn’t the case.

“Good morning, Claude. It is good to see you finally rejoin the land of the living.”

A groan meets his cheery greeting as Claude slumps into the chair across from him, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Still, despite the drowsiness, there’s a certain light to them as they land on Lorenz, only brightening as their gazes meet. He dares not name just what it might be - those are dangerous thoughts right now, better left for the dead of night, where Lorenz can ignore them once the sun rises. They’re hardly fit for polite company. Or, rather, just company. He would not call Claude all that polite as the man yawns wide, not even bothering to cover his mouth with a hand as he scratches at his beard.

Reaching out, Lorenz picks up the filled teapot, pressing one palm to the bottom of it and letting fire carefully burn in his hand. A useful trick he had learnt himself capable of during his studies of black magic. Claude watches in interest as he slowly wakes, the fresh morning air helping him along. It doesn’t take long for steam to start rising from the spout, and at the sound of whistling, Lorenz sets the teapot on it's rest to add the loose tea to steep. Finally, he leans back in his chair, full attention on Claude.

“You’re feeling better, I take it?”

“Yeah, much. Better than when I was about to bleed out, at least,” Claude jokes with a lopsided grin. A scowl passes over Lorenz’s face in turn, brow drawing together. Claude quickly sobers, taking the hint.

“Sorry. I promise I’ll try not to risk my life for you again in the near future.”

“Good.” _You had better not,_ Lorenz doesn't say, letting out a small sigh. Claude is quiet for a moment, and Lorenz takes the chance to properly assess him. He looks well rested, despite all the yawning, which is a rare occurrence these days. However, the way he's sitting still favours his side, so he must still feel some modicum of discomfort from his wound. Which is, of course, to be expected. Healing magic may be able to mend broken skin and bones and save people’s lives, but the physical toll on your body still remains. He imagines Claude will likely be feeling the repercussions for at least another week. With any luck, that will be enough of a lesson to make Claude realize he should smarten up.

Or so Lorenz can dream.

“So, things didn’t totally fall apart without me?”

Claude’s voice breaks Lorenz out of his thoughts, bringing him back to the moment at hand. He shakes his head in response, pushing thoughts of Claude’s idiocy to the back of his mind to think upon later.

“Thanks to the rest of us, no. I have no idea how you find time to get into so much trouble when you have so much paperwork to handle,” Lorenz huffs. Things would be so much easier if Claude was pinned down at his desk like Lorenz had been the past couple of days. It would save everyone the headache. 

In response to that, Claude’s eyes widen, looking surprised.

“Wait, did you read _all_ of the reports?”

“...Yes? They were all pertinent to the war effort, Claude. I couldn’t ignore them!”

“Oh, man… Lorenz. See, a lot of them can be handled by other people, so I normally delegate them out so I can actually focus on the really important ones. I can’t believe you read _all_ of them by yourself! I’m a fast reader, but even I can’t manage that one!”

Oh. Of course. Lorenz is going to strangle someone.

A bone-deep exhaustion falls over him as he listens, shoulders slowly slumping. It’s as if all the past days’ stress and weariness suddenly hit him full force, and it isn't a new feeling. It is, however, a reaction that is purely unique to Claude’s words. Slowly, he pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing.

“...I will not be helping you with any more reports in the future.”

“That’s fair.”

There’s an amused lilt to Claude’s voice, and Lorenz shoots him an irritated glare. At least someone is enjoying this mess. However, the smile on Claude’s face dulls the edge of his misery, and it’s with a much softer expression that Lorenz finally picks up the teapot to pour. The rich, earthy scent that wafts from the cups is distinct, and Lorenz can see Claude subtly sniff at the air, his smile morphing into a grin.

“Is that Almyran pine I smell?”

“Yes. The professor mentioned it to me when I inquired about a suitable brew. They have a gift for picking people’s favourites.”

“You asked Teach what my favourite tea is?” Claude prods, apparently latching onto that bit with a smug expression. Lorenz, however, does not miss the surprised glint in his eyes. Obviously, he wasn’t expecting Lorenz to care this much about his promise for tea, or, perhaps, about him. It stings, that Claude might think him so callous as to ignore his preferences, but… he supposes he has not done much to inspire confidence. Perhaps it is long since due for him to change that.

“Of course I did. This party is for you, after all, and I am nothing if not a good host. Think of it as an official ‘welcome back from the brink of death’. Seiros knows we won’t have much time for these things soon enough.”

Claude chuckles at that, accepting the teacup as Lorenz passes it over. He also plucks a tart from the pastry stand that Lorenz had set the food on. He takes a large bite of it before sipping at his tea, and Lorenz can only roll his eyes at the lack of manners, selecting his own pastry to pair with his drink. 

It’s quiet as they enjoy the meal, the faint song of birds filtering into the gazebo and the gardens surrounding it as the world at large truly wakes for the day. Lorenz can feel a serene smile pulling at his lips, utterly relaxed in this moment.

His eyes shut, and that’s when he feels the careful brush of fingers against the back of his hand where he had briefly set it on the table. Cracking one eye open, he looks from Claude’s fingers, innocently resting just beside his hand, up to his face, where the man is pretending to focus on the garden as well, taking a sip of his own tea. It’s only after a few moments have passed that he glances back to Lorenz, noting that he hadn’t pulled away yet. Lorenz arches a brow at him in return, questioning, and Claude grows bolder. A pinkie loosely loops with Lorenz’s; easy to pull away from, but hopeful nonetheless and solidly there.

It’s adorably chaste, considering Claude’s previous advances. Perhaps he has wisened up from his little excursion some. Lorenz can do little more than snort with an amused smile and take a sip of his tea, the finger looped with Claude’s unmoving. There’s a nice earthy flavour to the pine needles, something that’s distinctly foreign and richer than many blends from Fódlan, and he holds the cup there a moment longer to take in the scent alongside the flavour before he sets the cup back down. Claude is watching him intently, but Lorenz doesn’t let it phase him, nor does he comment on it. Instead, he switches to some lighthearted topics, casual in his demeanour.

“Have you had the chance to see some of the exercises Raphael is doing nowadays? I had always thought him rather impressive back in our academy days, but lately, he puts his younger self to shame.”

“You’re telling me. I saw him lifting three logs the other week for a ‘light workout’.”

“He could carry the whole of our class with one arm, I swear. It’s a wonder he can do anything without breaking whatever he touches.”

“You know, back at the academy I tried to work out a strategy in battle with him like that.”

“You what?”

“Yeah! I figured, hey, he can easily lift me. Why can’t he _throw_ me up, so I can get a good shot even without the high ground? Manuela had to fix my wrist twice from a sprain before we gave up that one.”

“You must be joking.”

“If only I was.”

“Goddess, Claude. However have you made it this far without dying?”

Claude only laughs at that, a brilliant smile lighting up his face. It’s one of the widest that Lorenz has seen that seems truly honest, and he can’t discount the fact that him not pulling his hand away may be part of that. Maybe… maybe they can really make this work. While he had thought it best to ignore everything happening around him - including Claude himself - maybe that doesn’t have to be the case after all. Avoiding him had clearly ended in disaster, and despite his qualms, talking to Claude was so easy. As if that potion had never been drunk in the first place. 

With a soft sigh as Claude regales him with another failed scheme, Lorenz takes another sip of his tea, relishing the warmth that slowly travels down his chest and settles low in his gut, spreading through him. This could work indeed.

Their conversation lasts for the better part of an hour before they finally have to end it. Claude has behaved himself throughout, simply brushing a hand along Lorenz’s arm occasionally or bumping a knee against his, never pushing further. It was… rather nice. 

As Lorenz finally stands and collects their plates and cups, he finds that there’s a pleasant heat in his chest that he can’t entirely chalk up to drinking something hot. It’s nice, talking with Claude again. He was truly a fool to try and ignore him like that when they could’ve worked things out so easily. 

“Well, guess I better go see what the stack of reports is today,” Claude sighs, stretching as he stands with Lorenz. His spine makes a cracking noise that has Lorenz wrinkling his nose, and Claude merely groans happily.

“Going to see how much you might pawn off on others, you mean?”

“Are you still bitter about that?”

Lorenz gives him a flat look in answer, and Claude laughs again in reply, apparently finding some entertainment in the whole situation. That was easy for someone who hadn’t spent three days stooped over a desk to think, Lorenz huffs to himself, definitely not bitterly. Still, at least it's all over, and Claude is all the better for it.

“If you’re set to finally get some work done, you had best hurry along. Even delegating those reports out, you still have plenty to do. There should be another report from the new trade route as well - our first shipment is expected tomorrow. It sounds like our plan went perfectly.”

“Wonders never cease when we actually work together, huh?”

“Perhaps.”

Lorenz can’t help but flash a smile at Claude, before looking away to pick up the stacked dishes, along with the pastry stand to bring back inside. Claude goes for the teapot, but stops with a click of Lorenz’s tongue and a scowl.

“I did say you should get started, did I not? Go. I can finish cleaning up here - I will talk with you later.”

“...Thanks, Lorenz. And thanks for the tea! You really know how to brew it perfectly.”

Claude has stepped closer to grab the pot, but despite the dismissal, he doesn’t back up immediately. If anything, he moves closer to Lorenz, leaning in, and Lorenz’s breath hitches. This is far closer than the table had allowed, and his eyes are wide as he looks down at Claude, taking in the little smirk on his lips. A hand comes up, and Lorenz waits for the feeling of warm, calloused hands on his cheek-

Claude snatches the last two muffins from the stand in his hand, winking as he takes a big bite of one and practically skips back from Lorenz.

“See you later, Lorenz!”

“I do hope you choke on those.”

Laughter fills the space as Claude departs, leaving Lorenz with an empty pastry stand and flushed cheeks. Hastily, he turns his back on where Claude had gone, heading for the dining hall. 

He can only hope that by the time he arrives, he’s successfully wiped the smile from his face so he can avoid any awkward questions. 

\----------

Things - surprisingly - do return to normal after that. As normal as being grounded let them be, at least. No longer does Lorenz go out of his way to avoid Claude, filling his days with strange tasks that he had never had the time to do. With things on a tentative mend between them now, though, Lorenz can finally go back to properly helping the monastery with what really needs to be done.

Claude swiftly retakes his role as tactician, sorting through paperwork and looking over whatever was left of Lorenz’s work to figure out what had been done during his absence. Lorenz finds this out when Claude complains during their brief lunch break, talking about how _technically_ there's still a backlog, and that he’d be in that ‘damned war room’ until dinner. Lorenz is not above admitting to the smirk that plays on his lips as he listens. One full day of work would surely do the man some good, and he says as much as Claude whines and retreats with food in hand to finish his job.

The next day, Claude is, as promised, finished before lunch, and Lorenz doesn't feel the slightest bit bad about roping him into helping him fish rubble from the pond, his own jobs far from done. Manuela had assured everyone that Claude was fit for light physical labour, and poking around a pond with a stick to point out where there were stones to be fished up is hardly taxing. Of course, the man is still reluctant to do it.

“It’s boring,” Claude replies when Lorenz points out that it is well within his abilities to do this. The reasoning has Lorenz laughing and pushing the long pole into Claude’s hands.

“You have had enough excitement in the last week to last us both a year.”

It’s two days later, as Lorenz is finishing a letter in his room, that he smells something off. It’s distinctly sweet, almost fruity, but in a foreign way that Lorenz cannot place. Certainly, it isn’t natural. It’s also coming through his door, which means it’s originating from the hall somehow, and the more he thinks on it and sniffs the air, the more familiar the smell becomes. It was- Claude.

Stomach dropping in mere seconds, Lorenz has a sudden flash of clarity. The smell wafting from Claude’s breath as he complimented his hair, trying to pet, leaning in close with suddenly flushed cheeks-

His chair falls with a clatter as he gets to his feet in a rush, crossing his room in a few strides and throwing open the door. The smell is stronger as he steps into the hall, and - predictably - is coming right from Claude’s room. That damned _idiot_!

Throwing any sort of manners to the wind - which Claude hardly deserves right now - he slams the door to his neighbour’s room open, eyes wide as he fears the worst. _Surely_ he isn’t actually stupid enough to drink more of the potions?!

“Oh, fuck-!” 

Claude jerks from his spot by the window with a yelp, fumbling with the potion in his hand for a moment as he looks back towards Lorenz with equally wide eyes.

“What the-?!”

“You had better not be drinking more, Claude!”

“Lorenz?!”

The man in question stomps over towards him, eyeing everything spread out in front of Claude on the bench. There’s various burners and vials set up, some filled with bits of the potion, others empty, and still others full of strange liquids that he can’t personally identify. The smell is easily pinpointed to a flask set over a burner, the lilac liquid slowly evaporating and leaving behind a thick paste in the bottom of the glass. Lorenz is quick to cover his mouth with his sleeve, glaring at Claude.

“What in the Goddess’ name are you doing!?”

“Uh- what are _you_ doing here?”

Lorenz sighs harshly, shaking his head. Of all the things to ask- and to ignore his own question like that!

“_I_ am checking to make sure you are not further enchanting yourself, Claude!”

“Huh? Of course I’m not- oh.”

It’s as if Claude only now really takes in the situation, from the vial in his hand to the smell permeating the air, and what, exactly, it might look like to the average viewer. A sheepish grin spreads over his face, one that is met with an entirely unimpressed look from Lorenz over the top of his sleeve.

“I mean, I’m not drinking it, and that’s almost definitely what actually causes the effect-”

“You are far too reckless to honestly be our lead strategist in a war.”

Striding past Claude, Lorenz reaches over the bench to open the window, holding his breath while he leans over the source of the fumes. The faint pink haze that had been settling around the area immediately starts to disperse as fresh air swirls into the room, and Claude looks like he wants to say something about that until Lorenz gives him a harsh look. Wisely, he shuts up. Unfortunately, it only lasts until Lorenz backs away and finally drops his arm, deeming the air safe enough to breathe without risk of unwanted enchantments.

“I’m working on a cure, actually, so… I figured you’d be happy?”

“And working on one requires you to inhale half a bottle’s worth of the potion?”

“Not intentionally! I’m refining it. There’s probably some sort of solute in here, and if I can get that out, I might be able to figure out some of the ingredients. I’d normally catch the vapour too, but I can’t find the part I need for that, so it just kinda…”

Lorenz, very slowly, and purposefully, looks around the absolute disaster that is always Claude’s room.

“It’s an organized mess.”

“That is not a thing.”

Lorenz sniffs, and Claude has the audacity to laugh, despite the fact that that was most definitely an insult to his organizational skills. The man truly is an enigma; no matter how hard Lorenz tries to look past his veil, he can never truly understand him.

“Regardless, I fail to see how your next thought was to just let the fumes build in your room. A whiff of potion is far different from inhaling its vapour.”

“True enough, but since I’m already enchanted, it can’t _really_ do anything else to me. Love is love and all that.”

“It could make the effects permanent!”

“Doubtful. That would probably need repeated strong doses, and I don’t think whoever made this stuff is _that_ good that they could get away with just one or two.”

“And if they are?”

“Then… I guess I’ll just have to marry you before I go crazy.”

Lorenz’s indignant sputter is met with Claude’s grin, growing all the wider as Lorenz turns for the door in a huff.

“If you doom yourself to such a fate, just remember that I am not the one who encouraged it!”

“If you keep showing me your backside, you might be.”

The slamming door does nothing to drown out Claude’s laughter.

\----------

It’s after their fourth morning tea that week that the news comes. Shamir had returned late last night, brushing into the early morning, and apparently was ready to give her report. 

Byleth has come to fetch them, and Lorenz swallows back the sudden dread weighing down at his stomach. This is what they had been waiting for all this time - Shamir rarely turned up empty-handed, especially after being gone for so long. She wouldn’t call a meeting just to report a dead end, either. For better or for worse, she must have found something. Lorenz can only pray it is good news as they head for the Cardinal’s room. 

They’re the last to arrive, as it turns out. The professors and the Golden Deer are all sat around the table, the head chair empty for Byleth with Seteth and Catherine occupying the chairs beside it. Lorenz wagers a guess that the gazebo had kept them rather well hidden from Byleth’s search, and he gives Byleth an apologetic look as they leave to take their place. They merely smile and pat his back in return, assuring him it’s alright, and Lorenz hastens to take his seat beside Claude. 

The Deer are chatting and gossiping with one another as they wait, but as soon as Shamir steps forward from where she had been silently leaning against a pillar, they quiet, all eyes turned towards her. It was amazing how easily one woman could command a room without speaking a word. He really must ask her for lessons some day. It’s without a pause to gather herself that she starts, arms crossed.

“We tracked the path from where the bandits had initially been heading, just a ways into Kingdom territory. Their base is at the southernmost point of Daphnel territory, southwest of Conand Tower - it’s well hidden. It’s probably been in use for some years now.”

The news is met with solemn nods - while Daphnel territory wasn’t officially under Empire reign like western Faerghus, it wasn’t outright opposed like House Fraldarius and Gautier. In other words, they couldn’t relax once they had crossed the border. Empire spies could be anywhere, and the knowledge that Garreg Mach’s defenses will be weakened during the trip will be valuable news to Edelgard. They’ll have to be careful, which is about as much as is relayed amongst the table, plans already being lain.

Claude pipes up with questions first, expression serious. Lorenz can practically hear the schemes being woven in that brain of his.

“What are we looking at?”

“Nothing heavily guarded. It’s in the basement of an inn - fortified, with only two entrances, but no scouts outside, from what we saw. They aren’t expecting unwanted visitors - the village around it seemed perfectly normal too, if not run down. It seemed mostly abandoned.”

A common enough sight these days, Lorenz muses, right alongside Claude.

“Alright. We should take the Golden Deer, Teach, and Shamir. The rest of the professors need to help organize the army and get Garreg Mach running properly while we detour.”

There’s nods around the table, no one objecting. Seteth can easily take over as leader, and that still leaves the bulk of their forces behind. Travel will stay light and stealthy - or, as stealthy as they can be, Lorenz thinks, glancing at Raphael as he boisterously yells his support. Perhaps overly stealthy would look too suspicious anyways.

There’s more details being hashed out amongst the others, but for the life of him, Lorenz can’t focus on it. It’s important, and he needs to, but… 

He chances a glance at Claude. The man is nodding along, listening intently to what everyone has to say and giving his own input as needed. He’s focused, but despite that, it doesn’t make him pull the hand resting on Lorenz’s knee back. It’s been there the whole time, an innocent point of contact that Lorenz has grown used to over the past week. Soon, everything will be back to normal. Soon, that hand will be gone, focused instead on drawing up maps and plans and futures that Claude might never share with Lorenz. There’s no hesitance in Claude’s countenance as they discuss the trip to finally reverse the potion (with any luck).

The thought makes him feel so incredibly cold, an ache in his chest at the thought of losing something that he hadn’t even realized had nestled there. Silently, his own hand finds its way to Claude’s, resting atop it and giving it a small squeeze. He can see Claude glance at him in his peripheral, a subtle look the others fail to notice, before the man looks away again with a smile, hand turning to properly hold Lorenz’s. Claude’s palm is warm as it gently squeezes Lorenz’s hand, and Lorenz ducks his head, letting his hair fall over his face. If it’s to hide misty eyes, well… No one is looking his way anyways.

\----------

“There. It’s that inn.”

Their group is crouched on the crest of a hill, Shamir pointing down to the village below. The trip had been a long trek through the mountains bordering Alliance and Kingdom territory, ducking between as needed to avoid any patrols. While their group had donned disguises - simple peasants travelling to find somewhere safe to live, which was not strange these days - they still didn’t want to risk being seen. A large group like theirs was sure to draw at least some attention. Ten people travelling together wasn’t as bad as a small army, but it was enough to err on the side of caution. Especially when nearly every member had a weapon of some note strapped to their back or side. Those couldn’t really be hidden.

After nearly a week of travel, they finally come upon the small village Shamir spoke of. It can’t be home to more than 50 people, Lorenz estimates, including the farms laid out in the distance. It’s a wonder such a place even has an inn, but from what he’s heard from Shamir, it likely isn’t a very legal establishment. No easier way to stay in business than through shady deals. 

Beside Lorenz, in a simple cotton shirt and worn leather jacket, Claude nods. 

“Right. What’s the best way in, Shamir?”

“There’s a front and back entrance. The back is probably their escape route, so we need to make sure we breach from there as well, so we don’t miss them.”

“Okay. I’ll take Teach, Lorenz, Raphael, and Lysithea to the back. The rest of you, front. Shamir can lead you to the entrance. I’m sure we’ll find the back door easily enough.”

WIth a quick murmur of approval, the designated five heading to the front straighten up. Hilda gives Claude and Lorenz a hearty pat on the back, the both of them bracing themselves against it with a small grimace. 

“You two better be safe, okay? Don’t let some losers get the better of you here. You really owe me for this!”

“We will be fine, Hilda. You stay safe as well,” Lorenz assures, offering her a small smile. For all her flippancy, it was not hard to see just how much Hilda cared for her friends, though she would never admit it. As it is, Hilda merely nods, hiding her worry behind a self-assured expression as usual and skipping after Marianne, the huge axe strapped to her back evidently not slowing her down. Their disguises _really_ needed some work, Lorenz thinks, grimacing.

Taking a breath to refocus, Lorenz nods to himself, straightening as well. 

“Ready?” he asks, glancing down to his left.

“As ever,” Claude hums, brushing his pants off as he stands with Lorenz. Glancing at him, he smiles, eyes lidding. “Gotta say, I think the wool jacket suits you! It adds something to your figure.”

Lorenz glowers at him, earning a laugh from both Claude and Raphael as the man comes up to them, patting their shoulders. 

“Kinda fun to see you guys wearing what my family does! Lot comfier than the uniforms, yeah?”

Lysithea grumbles to their right, scowling down at her own dress.

“Looser, yes. Scratchier? Also yes.”

“It ain’t that bad! My lil sis loves those dresses!”

“Remind me to buy her a proper one, then.”

The two of them walk down the hill, Lysithea bickering rather one-sidedly with Raphael as they follow after the initial group. Byleth is silent beside Claude and Lorenz as always, but there’s a small smile on their face as they watch their former students. They nod to Claude and Lorenz before setting off as well, and they both fall in step behind them. Lorenz sighs softly to himself as they near the inn, brow knit. Claude, predictably, notices, hand brushing against Lorenz’s as he steps closer.

“You okay? I figured you’d be nearly jumping for joy by now.”

It’s a joke, but there’s an undercurrent of tension to Claude’s voice. Lorenz, pointedly, does not think about what that might mean. No need to make things harder.

“I am fine. Joy is not exactly a fitting mindset before battle. We don’t know what they might have lying in wait, and I don’t enjoy the thought of our friends getting hurt.”

“Fair enough. We have a heavy advantage, but you’re right. We need to be cautious still.” 

Lorenz nods, glad to see some amount of common sense still in Claude’s brain. A miracle in the best of times, he swears. It doesn’t take long to reach the inn, set near the edge of the village as it is. It’s a two story building, rather plain in appearance. If not for the hanging sign that literally just says ‘INN’, it could truly be anything. He supposes the owners saw no reason to properly name the only one in the village, or simply didn’t care enough to. The wood doesn’t look like it’s rotting, though, so they at least maintained the exterior. 

Now that they’re closer, Lorenz takes note of just how… quiet it is. It’s only a few hours until noon, and normally the main street would have all manner of common folk going about their day, buying supplies and food and trading their wares, but there isn’t a soul to be seen. Not even one shop looks open, and a feeling of dread settles low in his stomach. Something isn’t right. While Shamir had said the village was mostly abandoned, this was a lot more than ‘mostly’.

Claude doesn’t seem oblivious to it either, eyes sharp as they scan the area, a hand near the small axe tucked in his belt. The other group has already disappeared into the tavern, and Byleth leads them around the back. Still no one challenges them, and they stop by what must be the exit - a chained cellar door, though upon a closer look, the chain doesn’t seem to actually be locked in place. Likely, the proper closure was inside, and this outer bit was just for show to keep down suspicions. 

With a nod, Claude sets Lysithea and Lorenz to keep watch as he crouches by the door, examining it to try and find a way in. If only they had recruited Ashe to their side back in the day - while Lorenz refrained from gossip and rumours, the odd bit did reach his ears. Claude had especially been interested in befriending the man when word got around that he knew how to lockpick, though nothing came of it before… well, everything else happened.

Shaking himself, Lorenz focuses on his job, but it’s a moot point. Still no one is to be seen, and it isn’t long before there’s a quiet curse from Claude. Glancing back, he sees that he’s removed the outer chain, but whatever is holding it shut from the inside still holds strong. 

“No way to get this open from here quietly. We’ll have to go in hard and fast. Lysithea?”

With a roll of her eyes, Lysithea turns to face them, and Claude is quick to back away from the doors. Lorenz frowns, backing up as well. That was awfully fast of Claude to give up.

“This surely cannot be our best plan-“

Lorenz is cut off as magic flares from Lysithea’s palms, fire shooting from them. He winces, reflexively raising his arms to shield himself from a spray of wood, but it doesn’t come. There’s the sound of wood splintering, the doors shaking on their hinges, but it isn’t the chaotic explosion he had feared. Peeking back to the door, Lorenz sees a hole neatly blasted in the center, the bolt and chain holding it shut mere rubble on the stairs below, and Lysithea looks plenty smug as she lowers her hand. 

“Unlike some of you, I do know how to control myself,” she hums, stepping forward and tugging one door open. It still wasn’t quiet, but it was leagues better than what it might’ve been, and Claude wastes no time in drawing his bow and nocking an arrow. Raphael takes the lead without any prompting, tugging his gauntlets on, and the rest fall in line, Lysithea bringing up the rear with Claude. Their steps echo as they descend stone steps, side-stepping the wreckage. The sun pouring through the now-open doors lights up the chamber as they enter what looks like a storage cellar, though it’s far smaller than the inn above them. Far, far smaller. With a well-aimed flame from Lysithea, a torch on the wall lights up, illuminating the shadows clinging further in. It takes mere moments of pushing aside boxes and sacks for them to find the door. It’s maybe three feet tall, rather wide, and hidden behind an empty chest that’s light enough to shove out of the way with barely any force. 

Gathered around it now, Raphael waits until Byleth gives him a nod to test the door. It swings open without any resistance, a fact that is both relieving and surprising, and Raphael wastes no time in squeezing through. The rest of them follow in short order, prepped for a fight and to back Raphael up, but…

A torch lights up across the large room, and Claude and Lysithea nearly attack the source, until they register the equally surprised faces of Ignatz and Leonie staring back. Silence reigns for a moment, neither party moving. Not daring to breathe just yet, Lysithea lights a few more torches with her magic, illuminating some parts of the room. Still, no figures dash out at them. It’s entirely silent, until Shamir clicks her tongue, looking frustrated as she steps into the torch light from Leonie.

“They must’ve found out we were coming. The inn upstairs was deserted too - it wasn’t last time I was here. Nor was the village.”

The information has Claude groaning and rubbing a hand over his face. Lorenz is unsure if he should be happy or dismayed at the news, and is perfectly happy keeping quiet for the moment.

“I thought we had been plenty stealthy getting here. Just… search the place. There must be some clues. Be careful, though. We don’t know if they laid any traps, or left anyone behind.”

Nodding, the group disperses. It’s their best plan right now, after all. Leonie and Lysithea go to light the rest of the various torches and lanterns around the place, letting everyone properly see the dim basement. As the darkness fades and is replaced with proper light, Lorenz almost wishes they had left it to be shrouded.

The room is made of a dark stone, much like the steps had been, with deep red rugs along the main paths, leading to various tables. The area that Claude and the rest had emerged from is set behind a full length bar, plenty of bottles still on the shelves behind them, though there’s enough gaps to suggest that whoever had been here before likely took the better stuff with them. There’s a stage on the front wall to the left of them, where Lorenz can only imagine they had… entertainment. A distasteful practice in and of itself, but looking to where Marianne is stumbling back, a hand to her mouth, he sees chains and shackles set into the wooden floor of it. More chains occasionally litter the walls, especially near the tables, and Lorenz thinks he’s going to be sick. Whatever took place here… he shudders at the very thought, and tries not to dwell on it as he rounds the bar, hands tight around the javelin he had brought. He prays they do not have to stay here for long.

Splitting into twos and threes, their party spreads out, searching around for anything of use. Claude disappears with Byleth into what seems to be some sort of backroom area, while Lorenz occupies himself with investigating the chains, looking for anything of note. 

No sigils or brands mark the iron, suggesting that whoever they kept in these weren’t particularly magically dangerous. Or, perhaps, that they had other ways of keeping them in line. He sets the chains down quickly, wiping his hand on his pants. 

Shaking himself as he straightens, Lorenz heads into the back himself, not keen on staying in the front any longer. He has to grab a torch of his own to light the way, finding a dark hallway past the door. It isn’t hard to find Claude and Byleth, their own light pouring out of a room at the end of the hall, and Lorenz heads towards them.

Stepping inside, he finds them stooped over a chest, Claude making a triumphant noise right as he gets the lid popped open. Perhaps he had talked to Ashe after all, Lorenz muses, coming up behind them. Of course, Claude could easily have a few tricks up his sleeve like that on his own - Lorenz would not put it past him. 

Claude pushes the chest open all the way, and Lorenz’s eyes widen in recognition immediately. The chest looks fit to normally hold ten vials, but currently, only two are sat inside of it. The glass is ornamentally carved, wings folded along the mouth of the vial around the stopper, and Claude huffs out a laugh.

“Well, we definitely found the right place. Guess they really needed that new shipment, huh?” 

He plucks the two bottles out of the chest, pocketing them. Lorenz doesn’t yell this time - obviously, Claude had learned his lesson already, and he shudders to think of anyone else finding such a substance. It is safe in his hands, which is… an odd thing to think about Claude. Straightening, he gives a curt nod to the both of them, excusing himself. Clearly, they didn’t need his help here.

“I will search the rest of the rooms, then. Look for any sort of antidote - this place truly seems completely abandoned.”

Claude hums, glancing back at him as he pauses in his investigation of the now empty chest.

“Want me to come with you?”

“You have your own room to search. Finish that first.”

“Fine, fine. Don’t go too far, though!”

“As if I would trust you for that long,” Lorenz chuckles, smiling at him before he turns and leaves. 

There’s plenty of rooms to choose from as he steps back into the hallway, so Lorenz merely takes the first one, peering inside. A cheap bed takes up most of the space, a simple set of sheets and a flat pillow on top. The same rich rug covers the floor. Lorenz swallows back another wave of dread just looking at the dim room, forcing himself to step inside and properly search the area. He couldn't afford to be a coward in this, no matter how little the room seemed to hold. 

As expected, though, there isn’t much of note. There’s some rather exotic looking oils that Lorenz doesn’t recognize sitting on a small table by the bed, and a hidden set of manacles attached to the headboard that Lorenz drops as if they physically burn when he picks them up, but little else. He’s all too thankful to leave that room, firmly shutting the door behind him. Clearly, he needs something of more use, and he sets off down the hall to find another room. There’s more rooms like it, apparently taking up most of the space, and he isn’t ashamed to admit that he skips past those ones. It was highly unlikely that anything important would be in them, and if they truly found nothing else… Someone with a stronger stomach could finish this area.

It’s near the end of the hall and after a useless storage room that Lorenz finds something that seems more useful. The door opens on what must have been an office of sorts, seats set around a table and a desk near the back. It’s a mess, with papers and such scattered about, likely having been cleaned in a hurry, but it’s more interesting than anything he had found so far. Their party must have only just missed whichever crooks ran the place if they were in such a rush, and Lorenz almost regrets it. While he did not relish battle or bloodshed, he could not help but think it preferable to letting the sort of people who would commit such atrocities run free. 

For now, he can only hope he can find something useful in here, stepping inside and picking up the papers. Many of them are useless, merely receipts that contain no names or scraps of notes that are unintelligible without context. Setting them on the corner of the desk, he pulls out the drawers, looking for anything that might’ve been missed. A lot of it is the same, what few messages remain holding nothing incriminating, but the second last drawer holds something more interesting. 

He pauses, looking it over. It seems to be part of a correspondence of some sort, though no other papers continue the conversation. Once more, no names are given, which is steadily becoming more and more infuriating. Still, he reads over it carefully, and then again. Then, a third time. He barely notices his hand tightening enough to start crinkling the paper.

_We apologize for your troubles, however, we assure you our potion is not faulty. You have been a loyal customer for years, and you know our potion delivers exactly what is promised. Any issues your clientele have had are due to their own error - we remind you that the entirety of the vial must be consumed for the effects to take root. From what you have described, your customer has not managed to get their target to drink the entire potion. Effects fade two weeks after use if not taken properly. Please, enquire with them before you accuse us again - we do not make mistakes, and implore you to do the same._

There’s no mention of exactly what the potion is, but Lorenz has no doubt. From every word he reads, he knows it’s the love potion. He knows it. And yet… His mind flashes back to Claude sitting in his room, annoyed over the as of yet unidentified potion. He remembers that the thing was maybe half-full from all his tests. He knows that he never drank more, since he had taken Claude to the infirmary himself right after, and unless Claude snuck in more sips after that point… 

Heart pounding, Lorenz jumps at the sound of voices, hastily shoving the note in his pocket just in time to see Claude step into the room, tossing something over his shoulder with a commanding tone. His serious expression fades as soon as his eyes land on Lorenz, though, and he walks over to him with a small smile. 

“So, find anything good? This looks much more promising than those other rooms.”

Lorenz’s tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth, frozen for a moment as Claude rounds the desk, peering at the papers left on it. His arm brushes Lorenz’s casually, something that had only started after he drank that damned potion, and something that hadn’t stopped since. 

It had been far more than two weeks by now.

“Lorenz?”

“I- no. Nothing so far. Just some business receipts that are rather useless.”

“Damn… I was seriously hoping for something more.”

Claude sighs, reaching out to pull the papers closer with a small frown. He still doesn’t move away.

Feeling like he can’t breathe, Lorenz clears his throat, stepping back. 

“I need… some air. Excuse me.”

“Oh, sure. You okay?”

Lorenz does not reply as he strides from the room, the paper burning hot against his side where it rests, a leaden weight that he does not know what to do about. Claude calls after him, and his steps only hasten, ignoring the others as he leaves the basement. 

What in the Goddess’ name was he to do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: haha yeah i'll get next chap out soon!  
me realizing i haven't updated since corona started: hm.
> 
> y'all being a student and an essential worker in a pandemic is a wild time  
but hey i graduated and am free! at last! sorry it took so long to get out i struggled hardcore with this chapter then got into a bunch of other games and did nothing ever again sdfkjgh  
but we're almost there folks. home stretch. one last chapter... then i can work on the other claurenz fics i wanna write finally. hopefully. 
> 
> i'm doing my best out here
> 
> thank u to snitewing and candytree for betaing! whatever mistakes are left over is just me being a dummy 
> 
> as always, i love reading all your comments, and thank u so much for sticking with this story! at least this chapter was extra long to make up for it haha,,, ha,,,, man.


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